


Spring Comes Late to Colorado

by KittenKin



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babysitting, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 121,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenKin/pseuds/KittenKin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as a general store owner in the Colorado Rockies was quiet but the scenery was beautiful, and Kurogane never complained of boredom. Into this peaceful setting drove a vehicle one evening, disgorging a stranger who was on his way up to his private cabin. Such an occurrence was nothing too far out of the ordinary, but Kurogane would later look back and compare the event to the mailman dropping off a bomb.</p><p>Country!Kuro + city!Fai + mystery!baby = Harlequin Heartwarming style romance~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fai drops a duffel bag

Feathery clumps of ice crystals fell slow and soft over Mercy Hospital, building up a thick white blanket to cover the dark, slushy mess that the previous night's snowfall had been trampled into. Visiting hours were not yet over but the temporary population of the hotel was at a low ebb, and the holidays were long enough past that the emergency room was no longer kept busy and holding tenaciously on to the faint aroma of drunken regrets at all hours. Instead of fist fights and fender benders keeping the doors open almost as often as they were closed, now there were only the usual winter's load of coughs and fevers to occupy the small medical center. The place was quiet but filled with a low hum of steady activity like a somnolent cat purring contentedly away, just waiting to be disturbed.

Headlights pierced the gloom that heavy clouds cast across the area even at midday, chasing wild shadows across the building as a taxi cab quickly made its way through the roundabout and stopped in front of the emergency room doors. A security guard detached himself from his coffee and desk, making his way outside with an awkward mix of slowness due to weight and haste due to curiosity. Mercy was small as far as hospitals went, though favored by locals for its friendly staff, and it was rare to see a taxi drop someone off.

"Got an out of towner?" the guard asked affably as the cab driver hurriedly got out and began squeaking through the thin layer of new snow to the rear passenger side. The cabbie looked worried and the guard tipped his hat back a bit as he tried to peer into the interior of the vehicle. "We all right in there?"

"I'm right enough, but my fare's messed up," the cab driver replied, pulling open the door. "Dunno if she got a bug or bad drugs or what, but she hasn't made a peep since falling in."

"Oh hell," the portly guard murmured as the cabbie's increasingly louder calls of "hey Miss" went unanswered. The girl slumped inside was little more than a pale, peaked face floating in the darkness. The dimness of the ill-lit vehicle and her dark, thick clothes - woolen cap, heavy coat and bedraggled boots - swathed all other features in shadows and shapelessness. A wheelchair was fetched and then the two men both moved to maneuver the light - and disturbingly limp - form out of the car.

"Oh _hell_." Both their hands came away wet and glimmering darkly in the yellow glare of the outdoor lights, and the cab driver grimaced and wiped his hands on his jacket while the other man began wheeling the girl into the ER. "Why didn't you take her to General?" the guard asked, referring to the larger, much more modern hospital with its renowned surgical teams.

"I didn't know she was hurt," the cabbie protested. "She just said 'Mercy' so here I am."

The automatic doors opened up, buffeting the men and their charge with warm air tainted with antiseptic and cleaning solution and then closing with a _whoosh_ behind them. The unconscious young woman was soon the center of attention, bringing the quiet waiting room to life and then disappearing through another set of doors, but this time lying flat on a gurney wheeled briskly by a pair of business-like nurses in colorful scrubs. There was a bit of an awkward shuffle in the waiting room then, ending with the security guard mumbling something about getting the now blood-soaked wheelchair cleaned up and wandering off with it, leaving the taxi driver torn between kind-heartedly worrying over his passenger and pragmatically - and none too hopefully - calculating his chances of eventually collecting his fare.

The cabbie lingered a while, folding up his bloodied jacket and giving his hands a thorough going-over with some disinfecting gel and tissues, but no one made a reappearance and the clerk at the reception desk proved to be too uncertain or unimaginative to give him any ideas of how best to go about invoicing an unconscious unknown. Finally he settled for leaving his name and contact information with the clerk in the hopes that his fare would recover and turn out to be a responsible young lady of comfortable means who always honorably discharged her debts. With one last mournful sigh over his financial losses, the driver waved his way out and began shuffling through the snow to his cab.

The passenger door was still ajar, making the man grimace at both the disturbing stain just barely visible on the back seat and the realization that all the warm air had long escaped. His heater was an indifferent piece of equipment at best and he definitely didn't want to put his bloody jacket back on. Resigning himself to at least several miles of uncomfortable cold, the driver prepared to shut the car door when the sound of the hospital doors opening and a shout made him pause and turn back hopefully. Perhaps the girl had regained consciousness and had sent an orderly out with her wallet. It was unlikely, but not impossible, and the cab driver was the type of person who had never quite lost that childish habit of hoping for small grade miracles to offset life's many disappointments.

"Wait wait!" a man called out, hurrying out from the building, waving one gloved hand and carrying some bags with the other. "Can I share that cab with you?"

"You can have it all for yourself," the driver replied, cheering up instantly though his initial hopes were disappointed. His last fare would probably remain unpaid, but here was a new one to keep him from wasting gas just getting back into the city. As a bonus, the stranger looked quite healthy. "I'm the driver. Where d'ya wanna go?"

"Rather a long way, I'm afraid," his fare said with an apologetic laugh, white teeth glimmering in a fair face framed by pale hair and an even paler scarf. "I have a cabin just past Elk Ridge."

A street lamp lit the man from above, setting a nimbus about his blond head, and when the cab driver had done some quick math he could have blessed the man for an angel. It would be a long drive but still far better than cruising past restaurants and hotels with a hastily washed and unpleasantly damp cab, hoping to rack up enough quick trips around the city to make having gotten out of bed that morning worthwhile.

"It'll be a good four hundred at least," came the cautionary calculation, and then the cabbie smacked his hands together happily when the stranger didn't even bat his big baby-blues.

"That's fine," was the cheerfully unconcerned reply.

"Well get on in then and let's get you up into the mountain air!" He began to get out of the way so that his new - healthy and _wealthy_ \- fare could get in but then jerked himself to a halt as he remembered the bloodstain. "Err, but wait wait, get in front. The heater doesn't work too well in the back and you'd be frozen before we got halfway there."

The truth was that the heater didn't work too well in the front either, but the stranger did not seem to be overly suspicious even when he hastily threw his folded up jacket over the stain in the back seat before scurrying out of the way so that the man could set his luggage down in the back. Doors were soon slammed shut and the engine revived, and the cab drove off in a flurry of snowflakes. In less than a minute, the area was silent again, and in twenty minutes even the tire tracks and blood spatters were hidden under a fresh layer of snow.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Elk Ridge was within driving distance of suburbia. The distance was not what anyone would call "easy" but to make up for all the blind curves and bright yellow signs warning of rockslides and avalanches and icy roads, the journey was more than picturesque. The road itself was modern and well kept enough, but to one side was sheer rock decorated with scrubby evergreen and snow, and to the other side was clear air, a dizzying drop and a breathtaking view. Drivers kept their eyes fixed religiously on the road, but any passenger with at least a smidgen of appreciation for nature and no traces of vertigo could easily spend the entire drive staring raptly out their window.

At dawn, the mountain range blushed pale peach and pink and nectarine, and fog blanketed the hills and valleys below as thickly as snow draped over the peaks above. Morning sun burned away the white mists and seared the skies into a stark, steely blue that was somehow all the more beautiful for its severity, or brought light only to backlight heavy clouds that seemed like a ponderous ocean rolling and roiling in slow motion. On clear days, the sunsets were like ripened versions of dawn, rich and ruddy, burning yet somehow dark. Night brought both velvety blue-blackness and the pure white of either snow or stars, but this was a sight unappreciated by most. The roads were frightening enough by day; few dared them at night.

There were those who made the long trip into town or the city often enough that they had all the twists and turns down the mountain practically memorized, but they were smart enough to be snug at home or safely at the bottom by the time darkness fell. It was not common fear that kept even the locals off the road at night, but common sense. The dark was a friend once you passed a certain elevation. Once the stars began outshining the street lamps and humanity humbly took its rightful place at nature's feet, there were no longer unnatural things - criminals and creepy crawlies - lurking in the shadows.

In the city, people carried weapons and chained shut their doors and feared for their lives despite all this. In the suburbs, parents checked under beds to settle their children's minds and left their porch lights on to settle their own. On the mountain, people walked with wolves and bears and were at ease with themselves so long as they remembered to bring their brains and balls when they left the house. Some carried guns, but it was primarily to provide for themselves, not protect.

Elk Ridge was a populous, bustling place perched cozily on the side of the mountain like a pretty little cluster of wildflowers growing out of a crack in the rocks. The population was nothing in comparison of the suburbs nestled in the shadow of the great mountain range, but still healthy enough to keep two grocery stores competing good-naturedly with each other. It was something like a resort town, but without ski lifts or snowmobile trails or indeed anything being rented at all except for cabins. The allure was not sport but solitude and the enjoyment of nature, and there were enough people interested in paying for these things to keep Elk Ridge thriving without ruining it at the same time with too many upgrades and modernizations.

The main road led to and ended at Elk Ridge, and multiple rougher roads led from the town to the rentals and privately owned cabins. A two-story building huddled at the crossroads of some of these glorified trails, almost blending in to its surroundings with its plain wooden walls and snow-capped roof. It was a general supply store, and offered a way to stay stocked without having to venture into the comparative bustle and brightness of Elk Ridge. The store seemed to exist out of sympathy to those who had escaped into these mountains for the sake of privacy and did not want to even be seen by too many, much less have to make friendly chat with them as they refreshed their supply of milk and bread.

The interior of the store was in keeping with this idea, offering a large selection of life's necessities though not in much variety. There were many items, but only one or two choices for each. If you wanted milk, you bought Colorado Creamery and you could pick between non-fat and definitely-a-lot-of-fat. There was not an option of percentages of fat. There were boxes of non-dairy milk for those not blessed with a natural tolerance to lactose, but it was plain and simple soy. There was no almond option, and certainly no colorful letters advertising strawberry or chocolate. There was just one brand of toilet paper, the cereal selection did not take up an entire aisle all by itself, and you could choose between just two types of toothpaste; regular and children's.

If you wanted your groceries in anything other than paper bags or your own two hands, you had to bring your own bags. Customers did not even have a choice as to who rang them up; the store was owned and operated, maintained and stocked, opened and closed all by one man. Youou Kurogane, twenty-four years young but carrying himself like he was much older.

He was not sociable, but then again, his customers were not the sort of people who threw Twitter-fits if they did not receive a satisfactory amount of deferential eye contact, polite chat and smiles. He kept his store well stocked and did not charge exorbitant prices. More was not asked of him, and that suited Kurogane just fine. Though eschewing small talk and treating his paying customers with the same brusqueness that he offered to idle passers-by, the storekeeper considered himself to have excellent customer service where it counted.

He did not run a late-night convenience store to ward off boredom with salties and sweets and questionable movies. He did not run a specialty boutique store to cater to whims and fancies. His official business was providing essentials and necessities, not luxuries and conveniences. The store had its regular opening and closing times, but he lived on the second floor of the wooden building and very rarely left the place for more than a couple of hours. No matter the ungodliness of the hour, he could be counted on to answer the door and would do his best to provide what was needed. That was his idea of customer service, and he was proud to offer it.

He had other reasons for staying, working and living here as well, but they were not ones that he was in the habit of sharing.

Up among the trees and rocks, the solitary man could have run his life and business however he wanted. His shop was necessary enough that his customers would have put up with higher prices and more inconvenience than he currently offered, but Kurogane stuck to his established routine with almost stubborn strictness. Life was quiet but the setting was beautiful, and the man seemed to feel no yearnings for excitement or variety. At the very least, he expressed no such yearnings, even if he did feel them.

Into this peaceful setting drove a vehicle one evening, disgorging a stranger who was on his way up to his private cabin. Such an occurrence was nothing too far out of the ordinary, but Kurogane would later look back and compare the event to the mailman dropping off a bomb.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The door opened and let in a flurry of fine snowflakes and a tall form bundled up in a ridiculously fluffy coat. Despite the thick fabric, the figure was long and lean and of such height that Kurogane put it in the "male" category as he eyed his potential customer. He almost revised his first opinion when the fur-lined hood shook back and revealed a face, pale and perfect, with big blue eyes bright even under the shadow of long platinum blond bangs. The wind and hood had tousled all that fine hair so that it wisped every which way and the person's nose and cheeks were rosy from the freezing temperatures, but somehow the stranger looked all the more beautiful for these imperfections. Thin lips parted in a half-smile and those brilliant eyes looked around the store as if at an unfamiliar realm, and Kurogane thought in the very back of his mind that it was as if a snow spirit had taken on human form and come curiously exploring.

And then the stranger opened his mouth.

"Hyuuu!" the blond trilled gaily, automatically raising an eyebrow on the shopkeeper. "It's _freezing_ outside!"

 _No shit, Sherlock,_ Kurogane thought dryly, and stood up from where he'd been crouched, checking expiration dates on cough remedies and stocking thinned-out shelves from a little cart of neatly labeled cardboard boxes. His great height helped to make the simple movement eye-catching, and the newcomer homed in on him immediately. There was a minute pause as they met gazes, and then the blond surprised Kurogane by laying an I've-been-waiting-my-whole-life-to-meet-you kind of smile on him and stepping forward to greet him. Six foot five Kurogane, with broad shoulders, black hair that refused to lie down no matter how much hair product they were threatened with and rich brown eyes that looked wine-red in most lights, was used to first reactions to him being more on the cautious side. In the case of small children, sometimes tears were involved.

"Pleased to meet you," the stranger claimed, stopping at a polite distance and holding out one gloved hand, palm-up as if in supplication or gesturing to something. Kurogane was doubtful that it was in fact all that pleasant to meet him, but gave the offered hand a quick firm shake as they traded names.

"I'm Fai. I have a cabin a few miles up Valley Road."

"Kurogane," the shopkeeper replied succinctly, giving his last name only as was usual for him and mentally chalked up another mark against the stranger. He knew of the cabin and who owned it, as the staff who kept the place aired out, cleaned up and well stocked often stopped by his store to chat and shop. He also knew of the Fluorite chain of hotels and the rumors about the family that owned them. A family in name only, based in New York and famous for their high-priced luxury hotels and the ruthless, cutthroat business tactics that they used with everyone including - or perhaps _especially_ \- each other.

Generations of wealth built on a foundation of greed. A golden palace on a hill of bones. Kurogane despised them on principle as representing the worst of what modern cities bred up. Smog and smoke instead of clean air, preservatives and chemicals instead of simple fare, fame and fortune instead of solid values; all of these things were calculated to breed twisted caricatures instead of honest men in Kurogane's opinion. Rumors of affairs and blackmail and even murder clung to the Fluorite name, though nothing ever came out clearly in the courtroom or the public eye. There were also whispers of bitter fallouts between the newest generation and the old. They couldn't even unite among themselves in the name of greed.

Fai flitted around like an out of season butterfly, peeping at this and that and chattering away brightly. The coat was peeled off as the warmth of the store seeped into his body, and the dark blue sweater and black slacks that were thus revealed were neat and clean and clung just enough to show off a trim form. He was no less attractive and graceful as when he first stepped into Kurogane's domain, but this only served to irritate the shopkeeper further. The more pleasing the exterior, the more disgusting the assumedly filthy interior became by contrast.

Kurogane was tall, dark, and Fai seemed to find him handsome or at least well worth the effort to strike up a conversation with, but all the blond's pleasantries, compliments and questions failed to draw much more than a word or two in reply. Sometimes all that was forthcoming was a grunt from behind a cardboard box as the store owner doggedly devoted himself to his wares. The light, lilting chatter ebbed, dimmed and finally trailed off entirely, and after a brief silence Kurogane noticed a pair of boots very near his left knee. He followed the legs upward and then frowned up at the slightly contrite, mostly puzzled face smiling down at him.

Bastard even looked pretty from this odd angle.

"Not much a conversationalist, are we," Fai commented quietly, most of the bubbles in his demeanor popped. "Am I bothering you?"

Bothering implied that the stranger was significant enough of a presence to affect Kurogane, and that wasn't something he was about to admit to.

"I'm all out of conversation," he replied flatly, with no trace of humor in his deep voice to make the statement into a proper joke. "I'm stocked up on everything else, though, so get what you came for and get out or else you'll get lost in the dark on your way up." This last little caution softened the "get out" and saved his response from being completely rude from start to finish. Barely. Fai seemed to admit it with plenty of good humor, smiling easily as if they were long-established friends and he knew that the other man was trying to be kind and funny and just failing spectacularly at it. It was obviously an act since they'd just met, and Kurogane looked upon the false front as proof that his prejudices were well-founded.

"I'm not actually here to shop," Fai admitted. "My cab driver had to stop and use your pay phone because his cellphone cut out mid-conversation, so I thought I'd come in and look around."

Kurogane was tempted to make any number of comments about how "looking around" could be accomplished silently or how the man should have stayed in the taxi cab instead of braving the wind just to track snow and dirt inside, but opening his mouth seemed like it would just trigger another avalanche of chatter so he stayed silent. Fai just got another non-committal grunt and then a look at Kurogane's back as the shopkeeper finished what he was doing and began wheeling away his supply cart without a word.

When he came back, Fai had moved further down an aisle toward the double-doors Kurogane had disappeared into and seemed to be waiting for him to make a reappearance. In another bid to get this annoyance out of his store, Kurogane grabbed a sponge mop and wheeled bucket on his way back out into the store proper and gave a pointed look toward the man's boots and the little bits of slush and soil that were melting off of them. Fai's smile turned into an almost exaggeratedly sheepish grin.

"Well, you're not benefiting from my conversation," the blond said a bit ruefully. "I suppose I should give you my custom to make up for insulting the purity of your floor." He put a gloved finger thoughtfully on his mouth and looked around, casting about for something to buy. It took the man a little bit to think of something suitable. Kurogane's store stocked mostly necessities and very little in the way of those random little things that one might pick up on whim, like decorative refrigerator magnets and postcards.

There were a few bottle opener keychains and lighters, but blue eyes passed over them without interest. His target was apparently something a bit better than a mere token purchase, which should have endeared him to a normal shopkeeper, but Kurogane's scowl only deepened as he followed the man around the store scrubbing up snowmelt. He wasn't really all that fussy about his floors, but he was not without hope that the constant squeak of the mop might guilt the man out of his building that much sooner.

They ended up in the far corner of the store where Kurogane kept a respectable stock of alcohol in locked glass cases. It was the one area of his shop with a good bit of variety and luxury to it. There were no "bottom shelf" bottles or boxed wines; everything was brand name and top dollar. The personality of the shopkeeper was still reflected in the fact that the vodkas were plain - no cranberry or black cherry, thanks - and the beers were all unapologetically alcoholic and calorie-laden. Non-alcoholic beer simply did not make sense to Kurogane, and as for "lite" options, he felt that if you wanted a healthy drink, you should stick to water.

"Am I still in the same store?" quipped Fai, having noticed the "take it or leave it" theme to the rest of the aisles and shelves.

"Unfortunately," muttered Kurogane before he could stop himself. Of course, he hadn't really tried all that hard. Fai just threw that "how cute, a joke" smile at him again before resuming his window shopping.

"This is definitely not the discount section," murmured the blond as he crouched down to read labels near the floor, and something - his tone, the quirk of his eyebrows, maybe even the way he still looked so perfect while hunched over with his lips pursed in concentration; Kurogane didn't know - made the shopkeeper frown and explain.

"People want to enjoy the scenery with a glass of Scotch, that's fine," replied Kurogane, resting one hand on the handle of his mop and the other on his hip while he waited. "But I'm not stocking a bunch of cheap crap so someone can come in with fifty bucks and then go drink themselves to death out in the woods because they're feeling crapped on and dramatic."

Big blue eyes were suddenly blinking up at him in surprise, and it made him bristle up and ask "what" in an irritable growl. He went unanswered despite the blond's more-than-probable willingness to engage in conversation as the front door opened again, this time much more energetically than when Fai had first entered. The second newcomer gave as contrasting a first impression to the blond as their respective entrances; the man was middle-aged, short and portly and ridiculously underdressed for the weather. The pay phone outside was enclosed in a booth and sheltered behind a windbreak besides, but it wasn't heated and a mere two layers of shirt and indifferent sweatshirt were no match for the freezing cold mountain air.

"Sir? I mean Fai...sir?" the man called, obviously flustered even just from the sound of his voice and though he expressed relief at spotting the blond as Fai stood up, his manner remained wound up.

"I'm so sorry but I have to go," the cabbie continued. "Go back down, I mean. I can't take you the rest of the way up. I've left your bags on the porch." The two met halfway in the soup aisle and stood talking for a minute or two while Kurogane minded his own business. The blond's subdued tones did not carry to the edges of the floor but the shopkeeper couldn't help but overhear some snatches of the cabbie's agitated explanations. The dark-haired man heard enough to raise an eyebrow - "police" and "investigation" - but stayed away and uninterested. It was not so much politeness as simply not wanting to be involved in anything to do with a Fluorite. This one or any of them, or even anyone at all that reeked so of the city and corruption.

Not that Fai actually stank of smog and slime. If anything the blonde smelled as clean and fresh as he looked, and just as his attractive person did, it just served to rub Kurogane the wrong way. Somehow it seemed like someone who came from such a city and such a family ought to _seem_ like it somehow...to carry the taint in a visible way. But the blonde was quite simply beautiful and those blue eyes were unmuddied by avarice or heartlessness. If anything, Fai seemed eager to please, or at least eager to be thought pleasing.

Even now, he was walking his cab driver out, waving at him cheerfully after shrugging his coat back on and calling out last-minute reminders to be careful while driving, to not worry too much and to say hello to Penny and little Grace for him. Kurogane thought a moment and then strode toward the front, a forbidding feeling making his forehead wrinkle a bit deeper. If the hotelier was being ditched by the cab driver, that meant Kurogane was the one getting said hotelier dumped on him. A vague idea of persuading the blond to get in the cab too and make his merry way back down the mountain occurred to him, but the driver moved fast despite his short legs and when the door opened, he nearly ran right into Fai, who was hurrying back inside with bags dangling from his hands.

Damn.

They did a little dance, circling each other so that Fai could edge in with his luggage while Kurogane looked out at the quickly fading lights from the taxi's tail lights and fared them well with a short sigh. When he stepped back inside, Fai's expression had changed from peppy to puzzled, and he turned to the taller man while hefting a rather dingy looking black duffel bag up.

"This one's not mine," the blond said, perplexed. Fai peered at Kurogane and Kurogane stared at the bag with a strange unease. It looked wet along one edge and he could have sworn the bag had just moved. "I wasn't sharing the cab with anyone though. I wonder if..."

The bag suddenly shifted and _wailed_ in a thin, reedy voice and Fai yelped in understandable surprise, opening his hand to drop the handles mid-air and jumping back from the suddenly sentient duffel. Kurogane didn't think; he just moved, surging forward to grab at the handles with one hand and catch the bag from the bottom with the other. It landed squarely in his palm, solid and heavy and _squirming_. The weight was uneven against his hand and Kurogane swore as whatever it was ( _he knew what it was; knew that sound, remembered it, heard it echoing in his ears when he woke up sweating and choking on an unvoiced shout_) almost tipped right out of his hand. He'd managed to grab the handles, however, and saved the bag from slipping away and onto the floor.

He broke out into a cold sweat at the thought.

"Oh my God, that scared me! Are there cats in there or something?!" Fai exclaimed, edging closer again. The high-pitched cry had cut off abruptly as the bag had dropped and now a faint whimpering and huffing could be heard, building up again toward another wail. Kurogane - heart hammering, breath finally coming back in shallow, unsteady gulps at what had almost just happened - carefully set the bag down on the check-out counter and grimaced as his left hand came away stained with dark red streaks from the bottom of the bag.

By his shoulder, Fai gasped softly but Kurogane had no attention to spare for the onlooker just now. He carefully pulled the opening of the bag up and away from the audibly upset contents of the duffel bag, worked the zipper open and then gingerly reached in with both hands to lift the occupant out, bloodstained towel and all.

"Oh my _God_ ," Fai repeated, breathless now and sounding about as stunned and sick as Kurogane felt. "That is not a cat," the blond commented weakly.

"No shit," Kurogane growled, finally tearing his eyes away from the whimpering infant in order to give Fai a scathing glare.


	2. Drive to Mercy attempt

Shocked immobility was pretty much the only option at first as the two men took in the situation, but a fussing infant in a bloodstained towel was not exactly something that could just be stared at blankly for long; it demanded attention, and that right quick. Kurogane was the first to thaw, and a short snarl to Fai to make himself useful snapped the blond out of his daze as well. Soon the slender form was dashing around the store under Kurogane's direction and a makeshift bassinet was made out of a nest of clean shop towels layered in a tiny doggy bed on top of the counter, next to the coat and gloves that Fai had hastily shed. While Kurogane gingerly unwrapped the terrycloth burrito, Fai recalled everything that he could about how his taxi ride had begun and ended.

"I was walking out of the hospital and saw Kenny - the driver - walking toward the cab," Fai explained. "I thought he was a fare and asked if we could share, but it turned out he was the driver."

"Was he picking someone else up?" Kurogane asked, glancing up briefly with a thoughtful frown before resuming his extrication and examination, moving slowly in case the blood on the towel was from injuries that he didn't want to aggravate. "And what hospital?"

"Mercy, and no, not that I know of," Fai replied, frowning thoughtfully and tapping his chin with one finger. "Now that I think about it, cab drivers usually stay in their cars when picking up a fare anyway. Maybe...hmm, maybe he dropped the mother off and had to carry her inside because she'd fainted. Maybe that's her blood? And if she was unconscious, she wouldn't have been able to tell him that her baby was still in the cab."

"In a duffle bag? What mother does that?" Kurogane asked dubiously, though in the back of his mind he decided it wasn't impossible that there were drug-addled women who thought that a carry-all could carry anything including their baby. "And how'd he not notice the baby in the first place? How'd _you two_ not realize there was a baby in the cab on the way, for that matter?"

"It must have been in the back, brought in without Kenny noticing, or else he wouldn't have mistaken it for being mine," the blond surmised with a shrug and also a grimace shivering over his face at the thought of this tiny little life put in such a precarious position. "And I never heard a whimper until I brought the bag into your store."

"Where you immediately dropped it," replied Kurogane sharply, and despite the obvious horrific consequences, Fai was taken a bit aback at the veritable snarl that this was spoken in. He blinked and leaned back slightly as if fearful that the snarl would be followed up by a snap of white teeth, and quickly moved the conversation along.

"Kenny got a phone call on the way up from his dispatcher," the blond mentioned, "saying that he needed to call the police. And he had to leave me here because crime scene investigators needed to go over his taxi cab for possible evidence. He was nice enough not to involve me in it but perhaps this baby is the 'evidence' the police are looking for? It's not exactly traveling in a C.P.S.-approved manner."

"'She', not 'it'," came the correction, as the shopkeeper's initial triage was completed. The rest of what Fai had been saying passed without comment. The task at hand consumed almost all of Kurogane's attention, leaving little for hypothesis and theory. He preferred to deal with realities anyway.

The stand-in baby blanket had been bloodied but it seemed to have all been someone else's blood and not the infant's; a disturbing enough thought on its own, but still better than the alternative. The ruined fabric was crumpled up and tossed over the counter to disappear somewhere behind it. Besides having been bundled up in a towel the baby was also dressed in footed pajamas of a pale pink with some tiny little pattern scattered over it, or rather half-dressed; the young man press ganged by fate into serving as a field pediatrician had unsnapped the garment and given the baby a careful going-over with keen eyes and careful fingers, checking for injuries.

Fai kept silent and watched with great interest as the grumpy, growly shopkeeper went over the tiny creature with unexpected gentleness. The lightly fuzzed head was caressed, each limb was felt over, each joint manipulated, and finally the baby was lifted again into those strong arms and hefted for a while as if the shopkeeper was trying to guess at the weight of a cantaloupe. All this contact and attention seemed to soothe the infant, and instead of wrinkling up her face and keeping up her whining, the baby was calmly gazing back at those ruddy eyes with blue-grey orbs of her own.

It was like watching a grizzly bear grooming a kitten.

"Seems like she's in one piece, with nothing broken that I can tell," Kurogane finally said, with relief plainly present in his tone. He sighed, laid the baby girl back into the plush pet bed and began fastening her pajamas back up, starting at the ankle and working his way up her body toward her collar. She was no longer whimpering, but squirmed restlessly when set down and twisted her little mouth about as if working her way up to a cry of protest.

"She should be okay for the drive back down so long as you don't try to drop her again."

"What?" Fai looked blankly at the other man, and got looked at right back as if he were an idiot.

"Does this look like a daycare to you?" Kurogane asked with asperity. "Get on the phone and call the hospital where you were. Have them find out if any of their recent arrivals are missing a baby and tell them we're on our way." And with that, the shopkeeper turned and stalked off toward the back of the store, weaving a slightly circuitous route through the aisles and picking items off of the shelves as he went. He left two fair-haired strangers at his register, one no less lost than the other, save in different ways.

The owner of the store disappeared into the back for long enough that when he finally reappeared, he was nursing a slight anxiety that the spoiled little rich boy might have harmed the infant through sheer ineptness and ignorance. Unhappy noises were issuing from the fleece-lined pseudo bassinet, quickening Kurogane's steps, but he slowed to a halt by an end-cap at the sight of the blond doing his level best to address the fussing. Sadly, it seemed that Fai's "best" was founded on zero experience and hardly much more practical theory. Kurogane leaned against a display of crackers and cookies, cocking an eyebrow over the way Fai was offering flowery apologies in a sing-song lilt and giving hesitant little pats as if consoling an old lady for the untimely loss of one of her budgies.

"I do apologize for the accommodations but I'm afraid there wasn't any time to prepare something more suitable for you," the hotelier said anxiously. "Poor dear, this padding isn't even memory foam or anything, is it? If my housekeeping staff were here I'd make sure you had the softest jersey cotton sheets you could want, but I'm a bit displaced myself you see, so _please_ won't you be a dear and stop crying? Please?" Those pale hands gave the squirming baby another hesitant pat.

Kurogane almost felt sorry for the poor bastard, clearly out of his depth here and sounding more desperate than the child for some sort of succor, but the mention of maids to cater to his every whim brought the shopkeeper's hackles back up. With an irritated growl at himself for thinking even for a split second that the man deserved any pity ( _or admiration for doing his pathetic best, or to be found amusing because there was nothing amusing about a Fluorite_ ), Kurogane strode forward and dumped the laundry basket and olive green knapsack he'd been carrying onto the floor, making Fai startle.

"She's not an alarm clock; quick whacking her."

"I wasn't!" Fai protested with a quick laugh, and then gave the taller an absolutely pathetic, utterly fake look. "I just don't know what to do with babies."

Kurogane snorted. Obviously.

"She sounds so unhappy; I'm afraid something's wrong," continued Fai, either not noticing the derisive noise or too spun up over the infant's fussing to care.

"Of course something's wrong," Kurogane replied with a long-suffering sigh. If the blond thought these frustrated little whimpers were the worst noise a baby could make, he was probably going to be in for a nasty shock in the next few hours. When babies were really unhappy, they made sure everyone within earshot shared their unhappiness.

"Strange place, strange faces, strange voices...babies like routine and security and she's got none of that right now." He didn't bother explaining how he knew this or what to do. Instead he reached out without another word and picked the fusser up, supporting her neck until she was draped against him, little head snug under his chin and limbs tucked up as if she were a tree fog suction-cupped to his chest. A large, tanned hand gave the diapered rump a few quick pats. There there. The big blond dork isn't chattering nonsense at you anymore.

The cessation of mini-wails was instantaneous, and Kurogane tried not to feel smug about such a little thing as this. Or to hesitate a little too long over the feel of having a baby fitted so neatly against his body. He gave the little rear end a few more pats before carefully clearing some space on the countertop, which was looking more like a changing table instead of a check-out counter.

"I wish I could do that with all _my_ customers," the hotelier mused, and Kurogane turned to face him fully and just stare at him. Despite all his prejudices and preconceived notions about the man's probable lack of morals and common sense, that last comment had just been a little too stupid to let pass without obvious judging. He just got a blank stare back at first, and then a lightbulb seemed to go on.

"Hm? Oh! Not cuddle them and give them a smack on the butt," Fai laughed, and the taller found himself unaccountably relieved that the idiot wasn't _that_ idiotic. "I meant soothe them so naturally when they're upset. I'm pretty good at customer service but sometimes a guest just wants the impossible, and...well." Blue eyes drifted further and further away toward the end and it seemed like the blond was remembering more than conversing. Kurogane found himself interested at the brief flicker of discomfort and suggestion of a blush that he thought he could see before the sunshine smile came back out ( _and perhaps "the impossible" was not just unicorn-shaped mints on the pillow but that blond head, too_ ), and then got irritated at himself for being interested.

"Speaking of impossible, I don't suppose you made that call like I asked you to."

"Miracles happen," Fai replied, pulling the cheer out at full force again as if to cover for his slip. "I did indeed, although I didn't find out much. A young woman was dropped off shortly before I left and they think it's possible the infant is hers, but she's in surgery, so she obviously won't be answering any questions for a while yet."

"Surgery?"

"They couldn't give me any more information than that," Fai said, giving Kurogane a politely apologetic smile. Probably the same smile he turned on customers who expected that waving a title or name or platinum card around guaranteed their ability to extend a stay for two more days during a convention week. "They don't even know who she is; right now she's Jane Doe."

"What about your friend, Kevin or whatever. If his dispatcher was in contact with the police, maybe he'd know more."

A pale eyebrow quirked momentarily at this, reminding Kurogane that he actually hadn't been a part of that conversation; only overheard little bits and pieces. He didn't feel any need to excuse or justify himself to a Fluorite of all people, but he did give a little shrug as if to admit his eavesdropping and argue that it was hardly worth making a fuss over at the moment.

"You mean the cab driver? Kenny?" Fai queried back. "I just met him at the hospital. He seemed rather flustered by the police involvement; even if I could track him down through the name of his cab company I doubt very much he'd tell me anything confidential."

"What, you're strangers? You two were chatting all buddy-buddy. You were sending messages to his wife and kid, weren't you?"

"His schnauzers, actually. It's a long drive," explained Fai with a light laugh, showing off teeth that seemed entirely too pearly to be natural. " _Some_ people like a little light conversation to pass the time."

"Some people think it's a _waste_ of time," Kurogane growled, not a little perplexed by the idea of spending so much time and breath on a person that you'd very likely never meet again. What was the use of getting so chummy with a random person that you'd want to be remembered to his _dogs_ , for God's sake? For Kurogane, conversation was a necessary evil for the most part, to be cherished only with a precious few. It was like a bottle of fine alcohol; why waste it on strangers? He suddenly remembered how Fai had attempted to drag _him_ into conversation when they'd first met, too, and they were hardly more likely to ever meet again, since Fai only came up to the cabin a couple of times a year and had never stopped by Kurogane's shop before.

Whatever it was that drove the blond's mania for conversation, however, the fact remained that they still didn't know anything about the baby that fate - in the form of a leggy blond - had unknowingly deposited on Kurogane's doorstep.

"Well, whatever," the shopkeeper grumbled. The baby snuffled and squirmed against his chest, reminding him of his current priorities. He found himself wanting more and more to just get rid of these two strangers and get back to the peace and quiet of his regular routine. The baby was too warm and heavy and comfortable and the blond was more interesting ( _beautiful, with changeable eyes like what Kurogane imagined the ocean to be like_ ) than he had any right to be. "Let's just get her fed and changed and then take her back to the hospital. Grab that basket for me."

"Shouldn't we just get her back as soon as possible?" Fai asked, even as he bent to sweep up the laundry basket as ordered.

"Like you said, it's a long drive up from the city," Kurogane replied, and shook his head half in a simple negative and half in resignation at how clueless the blond was about anyone not old enough to order room service. "Babies need more than three squares a day." There was a hastily warmed up bottle of infant formula in the basket along with some very basic baby maintenance items, and he continued using the other man as an assistant, snapping out orders for this and that. He was not going to drive down the mountain with _two_ whiny infants complaining in his ear the whole way.

Kurogane set the squirmer back into the pet bed and started unfastening her pajamas again, much to her discontent. Diaper duty called, and despite the unsavoriness of the task and how long it had been since he'd last had any practice, the man was not about to entrust the blond with it. The baby would end up with the diaper tied around her like a tutu. It wasn't exactly like getting back on a horse, but it was simple enough of a thing and soon enough he had a clean, powder-scented baby neatly bundled back up in her footie-pajamas and burrito'd in a clean pillowcase from his closet. He'd grabbed bottles, powdered formula, diapers, wipes and baby powder off of his own shelves because MacGyvering that kind of stuff was just asking for trouble, but the pragmatic man figured that a wrap was a wrap, and a pillowcase good enough to serve as a baby blanket for a few hours.

"Gimme your hand," he commanded while surveying his work, and then dropped a warm, rather smelly diaper into Fai's upturned palm with a barely concealed smirk. The diaper was neatly wrapped with the velcro-like end tabs snugly fastened because Kurogane was not quite so cruel or desirous of having a mess made in his store, but the blond's reaction was still quite satisfying. Kurogane was well into his twenties, but a bit of childishness still lingered, perhaps.

"Aah!" Fai cried out in disgust, startling the baby and kicking off a fresh gush of high-pitched protests, and then the man was frantically casting around for a waste bin. A quick search turned one up right on the other side of the counter from where Kurogane stood once again soothing the infant, and the storekeeper received a glare in return for the trick. The bloodied towel had been neatly dropped into the waste bin, so it was obvious that Kurogane had known exactly where it was and could have tossed the diaper away himself.

"Never gotten your hands dirty before?" Kurogane asked, with an effort at making sure only derision entered his tone and not any of the amusement he was feeling. He was sure that all that family's hands dripped with money and blood, but all the dirt and grease of honest work was probably fastidiously manicured away.

"Is this how you treat all your customers?" Fai countered. He was still glaring, but the effect was rather ruined by the fact that he couldn't keep his mouth from twitching into a smile despite himself.

"You're not a customer," the shopkeeper reminded the man pointedly. _And even if you were, you'd still be a Fluorite._ Kurogane did not do any self-examination on the point of how he did not actually treat those he despised in this sort of manner. Those he liked got grudging respect and rough-edged kindness and an occasional taste of his humor. Those he disliked got ignored. Kurogane was standing there hating the man but acting like he was family, and didn't even realize the disparity in his thoughts and manner.

As for Fai, at the reminder that he hadn't yet done anything except distract the shopkeeper from his work, soil the floor with his wet boots and almost drop a baby on the floor, the hotelier had the grace to look embarrassed and discard his petulance. It should have surprised Kurogane, since he was assigning the man all sorts of character defects like vanity, selfishness and entitlement, but it didn't.

"Oh, right. Well, I'll pay for these things," Fai offered, gesturing at the box of diaper wipes and other baby goods now littering the countertop, but Kurogane shook his head and then tried to hand the fussing infant off to the blond.

"Forget it, just feed her for me while I close up shop." And get the two fair-haired strangers the hell out of his store. And life.

Handing off the baby did not go so simply as handing off the diaper. Fai backed away as if Kurogane had shoved a box of cobras at him, even raising his hands and stammering a bit as he tried to make clear his lack of qualifications to be appointed the child's nurse even temporarily. The taller just stood there for a moment with the little girl still suspended in his two hands and one eyebrow raised at this over-the-top reaction before sighing in exasperation.

"It's easy," he said with exaggerated - and probably unconvincing - patience, raising his voice just enough to be heard clearly over the infant's increasingly noisy wails. "Just hold her in one arm like a football and use your free hand to stick the bottle in her mouth." When the other man looked as if he might continue to protest, Kurogane gritted his teeth and then growled an ultimatum, increasingly irritated at the delays. Why couldn't people just do what he said to do? Or at least leave him alone? Or at least not drop babies into his life like a stork with no sense of direction?

"Look, I am closing up shop and driving this baby down the mountain. And _soon_ , because there's a storm due tomorrow. You have two choices; get out and start hiking or help me and _maybe_ earn yourself a ride to your cabin." His original, unspoken idea had been to just ditch the blond at the hospital and let him try to find another driver willing to take him to his cabin, but Kurogane threw in the offer of a ride as bait.

The choices were not very choice, but one was suicide and Fai apparently not wanting to die today. After a few seconds of helpless hemming and hawing, the blond grabbed the baby bottle out of the laundry basket and plunked himself down on the floor atop his folded-up coat, which he grabbed off the counter and threw down for a cushion. Kurogane thought the man could have managed standing up, but considering the non-impossibility of Fai actually dropping the baby again, it wasn't a bad idea to have them stay low to the ground.

Pale hands were lifted up hesitatingly but Kurogane gestured them back down before kneeling in front of the unwilling nanny. He carefully set the infant down into Fai's left arm, her head nestled into the crook of an elbow and the rest of her draping along a forearm. Once the weight of the little body was on him, Fai instinctively cradled her close, and seemed almost surprised at how simple a thing it was to carry a baby one-handed.

Getting her going on the bottle was also cake and pie. Her mouth was already open as she made rather angry little rawrs and mews, and as soon as the latex nipple hit her lips, she latched on eagerly and started suckling away. Fai looked up at Kurogane in delight, mouth open in a big smile.

"She's drinking!" he exclaimed, and for once Kurogane didn't want to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious.

"Good job," he replied absently, listening to those muffled clicks and smacks that made up the proper soundtrack for a nursing infant. Ruddy eyes were fixed intently on the infant as she in turn stared up at him, dark blue eyes wide open now that she wasn't scrunching her whole face up in unhappiness. She blinked and then looked away toward the man holding her next, and Kurogane ended up doing the same except in reverse order. He glanced up to Fai's face and then blinked at finding himself being stared at by _this_ blue-eyed stranger as well, and with such an expression.

There was hardly any actual expression worth describing; Fai's face was mostly calm, but there was something to the slightly widened eyes and the millimeter of space between those lips as if he'd forgotten to close his mouth all the way after speaking. As if he'd forgotten because he'd been caught by surprise somehow, and by Kurogane...by proximity or some look or word, and now he just stared. It was the same look that he'd given Kurogane over by the shelves of alcohol, and got the same reaction this time as well.

"What?" Kurogane asked shortly, irritable because he was uncomfortable. Because there was someone in his shop and space and life and he didn't want that. And before Fai could respond, the dark-haired man surged to his feet and stalked away, escaping into the back again.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Fai and his little charge were left alone for a longer time than before, but the minutes seemed to have passed easily. When Kurogane returned from locking up with his coat, gloves and keys in his hands, the two were still as he'd left them, only now the bottle was empty and resting on the floor. Fai had one hand free now and had it very lightly, almost hesitatingly laid across the baby's legs. He looked up at the sound of footsteps and gave Kurogane a mixed look; part triumph, part terror. Thin lips parted and mouthed something slowly and exaggeratedly.

_What do I do?_

"You talk out loud like a normal person," Kurogane replied blandly, tossing his things onto the knapsack that was still on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Fai hissed frantically as the little bundle in his arms burbled and twitched slightly. "She's going to wake up."

"She's not going to stay asleep long. I'd bet my car that you didn't think to burp her. Give her to me; I'll do it while you get ready." Not that Kurogane wasn't willing to let the blond risk soiling his overpriced clothing with spit up. He just didn't trust the idiot to know how firmly you needed to pat a baby in order to move air bubbles around. Fai seemed both relieved and distressed at giving the baby up, and once his arms were free did not pick up his coat or put his gloves back on. Instead, he stood and hovered, lips pressed together as he gazed at the child who was now free of the pillowcase-wrap and being lightly bounced.

"Why are you jiggling her around like that?" the blond queried anxiously.

"It's easier to burp 'em when they're awake," Kurogane explained, and then blew lightly in the baby's face. "Oi, Jane Doe. Wake up."

"Girls are Roe, not Doe," the blond corrected in a quick, automatic manner. "And babies are Precious, not Jane or John."

Whatever her legal designation was, the voices, movement, loss of warmth and puff in the face all combined to do the trick, and the baby woke up with a displeased scrunch of her features. Step one complete, her current keeper laid her over his shoulder and began patting her firmly on the back while eyeing the hotelier dubiously.

"Precious Roe," Kurogane said flatly, unwilling to believe something so stupid-sounding. It hung in the air between them and he could practically hear the name being tossed around inside that - probably otherwise empty - head.

"We could call her Caviar."

"No. God, no. Get your coat on." Pat pat.

"Boutargue? Ouriço do mar?" Fai asked over one shoulder as he turned to grab his gloves from the counter.

"What the hell is...no, never mind. Just shut up and get ready." Pat pat pat.

"Something more Asian? Ikura? Masago? Karasumi?"

"Will you cut that out? Does the baby _look_ Asian to you?! How do you even know what that stuff is?" The last question slipped out before Kurogane could remind himself that he wasn't interested in anything about the stranger.

"Well, no," admitted Fai, peering around Kurogane's shoulder at the baby's face while shrugging on his coat. "She looks more like me than you. And I run a place on the west coast called--"

"I know who you are and what you do," interrupted Kurogane, with a sudden return of a biting edge to his voice. He'd been returning irritable growls for all of Fai's banter but now he sounded truly angry, and the blond immediately shut up and took a half step back, blue eyes wide in surprise. Right on the edge of the moment turning awkward on one side and unnecessarily antagonistic on the other, the baby squirmed, mewled, and then let out a deep, bubbly belch that went on for a good two seconds at least.

"Oh my _God_ ," Fai exclaimed, shock making his jaw drop. "Was that the _baby_?!"

"Wasn't me," replied Kurogane, unfazed. He gave the infant a few more bounces and pats, but that one monstrosity seemed to have been it. She settled comfortably against him with a little murmur, seemingly perfectly ready to go back to sleep. He gestured over to the counter with his chin and began issuing orders again now that Fai was suited up against the cold, though it took a few repetitions before those big baby blues tore themselves away from the little gas-bag.

Kurogane bundled the baby back up in pillowcases while Fai packed the doggie bed into the laundry basket under the shopkeeper's direction. The pet bed served decently well as a bassinet for an infant too young yet to roll over and crawl away, but the dark-haired man did not want to have to worry about the baby sliding out of the scoop-shaped opening along one side, or the pet bed itself sliding off the seat during a sharp turn. The laundry basket provided high walls on all sides and had holes for handles that a seatbelt could be looped through besides, and was the best Kurogane could rustle up in the way of a car seat. His store did not carry _everything_.

Clean, fed, comfortable and warm, the infant submitted to being set down again without a peep of protest. The makeshift quality of her blankets and bedding seemed not to disturb her at all, her sense of aesthetics being as undeveloped as her motor skills. That part of the "get the strangers the hell out of his life" plan went smoothly for Kurogane.

None of the rest of it did.

Fai was capable of following directions, but seemed incapable of actually doing so without questioning said directions. He worried aloud that little fingers might get caught in the weave of the laundry basket, and when Kurogane showed him how the baby's hands were pretty well immobilized by layers of pillowcase, only switched over to worrying that the baby wouldn't like being "mummified" like that. The taller explained - with a long-suffering sigh - that babies liked being wrapped snugly because it reminded them of being in the womb. While Fai thankfully did not question this bit of wisdom, he still looked a bit dubious and kept peering closely at those chubby little cheeks and buttoned-up eyes as if almost hoping she'd start complaining and prove him correct.

"Stop gawking at her; you're going to go cross-eyed," Kurogane said dryly. "Come on, you ready to go?" He shrugged on his coat, stuffed his gloves into a pocket, picked up his keys and knapsack, and then paused for a moment to watch his companion. Fai knelt, made a few tentative grabs at the handle, finally seemed to get a grip he liked and then lifted the basket up as cautiously as if it contained a bomb.

...and then turned and began mincing toward the front.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kurogane asked with a sigh, and Fai turned and blinked at him.

"To the door?" came the reply, in about the same tone of voice as a schoolboy giving an obviously incorrect answer because it was the only one he had. Kurogane didn't know whether to sigh yet again or smack his head against the countertop. How spoiled, sheltered or stupid was this man?

"You can't take her outside wrapped in nothing but a few thin layers, and _I_ don't keep my car buried in a snowbank. Just wait in the office while I warm the car up." He jerked his head toward the back of the store and then moved forward himself to lock the front doors that Fai had been heading toward. That done, he followed the other man - overtook him and passed him - and went on into the back of the property. There was a little office and restroom facing each other across a hallway, the door to the garage, a narrow staircase to the second floor, and then it all opened up into a large storeroom full of shelves and boxes.

After holding the door open - for the sake of the basket's occupant, and not out of any other impulse - Kurogane passed through into the garage where his Audi Q7 sat with a week's worth of dust on it. He always washed it after hitting the roads to keep dirt and road salt from hastening the vehicle's eventual retirement, but otherwise did not waste much time in keeping it meticulously groomed. The inner workings were maintained religiously - up here, not keeping your car in good working order was on par with letting your supplies of water and fuel run out - and he was normally neat enough that the interior didn't need much more than a cursory pass with Windex and a vacuum once in a while, but that was it.

The vehicle came with enough of a price tag that most owners put a great deal more care into its appearance, but Kurogane had only splurged on the Q7 because it had so much more torque and storage than most of the other snow-worthy vehicles rumbling around the Rockies. He didn't have a family or five friends and their skis to squeeze into the SUV, and he wasn't one of those jerks who revved their engines like they ran their mouths, but monthly trips down into the city to pick up whatever he couldn't get delivered went much more smoothly when he wasn't worrying about blowing a piston or constantly elbowing a box out of his ribs. He'd had a Forester before, but after building up enough irritation at the cramped interior he'd ditched the Subaru and brought the Audi home instead.

The vehicle obediently came to life at Kurogane's command. He didn't pamper the vehicle but he _did_ have a very well insulated garage and a block heater. The garage door was opened a bit to keep carbon monoxide from building up too quickly, and Kurogane ducked outside to check the driveway. He kept it decently shoveled and the day proved not to have been so stormy that the accumulated snow presented any problems, so after a cursory look around he walked back through the garage and stepped back inside.

One hand supporting him on the doorframe, he leaned into the office but frowned at finding it empty of both blond and baby, though the basket was sitting on the floor. The empty container got frowned at in mixed annoyance and confusion, but it yielded no confessions. Kurogane shoved aside the little shard of worry prickling at his chest ( _he heard no thin cries in the darkness, no wails ringing in his ears_ ) and continued his search. The bathroom door was open and the lights off, and a quick check of the storefront showed it to still be deserted as well. Cursing the idle curiosity of a city idiot with ADD practically bred into him by a lifestyle where everything was on-demand and microwavable in less than three minutes, Kurogane began stalking down the hallway into the storage area.

He stopped dead as the ceiling creaked.

So far Kurogane hadn't exactly been generous in how much credit to give to the stranger but apparently he'd given the man _some_ , because he was surprised when he realized - with a rush of hot anger - that his private space had been invaded. Biting off a curse between gritted teeth, he trod heavily up the stairs and had the satisfaction of hearing a guilty patter of quick steps rushing to meet him at the top. An acidic series of comments on modern notions of privacy and respect was on the tip of his tongue but he threw them away after a moment of consideration. Fai had certainly earned a chewing out but Kurogane wasn't going to waste his breath and energy. He hoped to see the back of the man before the next day was out; it wasn't anything to him whether or not the idiot ever got his moral compass fine-tuned.

The footsteps were right at the door now, which was slightly ajar, and Kurogane waited in the corner of the landing. He was unwilling to risk running into the other man at speed and possibly smash-sandwiching the infant between them like an unfortunate little dollop of jam. Lucky for the hotelier. If Fai had been up there alone, Kurogane might have been tempted to grab the man by the collar and throw him down the stairs. A shadowy form filled the slight opening and then a boot delicately toed the door open, revealing an appropriately contrite and ashamed Fluorite. The expression was thrown away on the scowling homeowner. If anything it even angered Kurogane further, thinking of it as he did as merely an act to soften his righteous indignation.

"I'm sorry," Fai apologized immediately with a hesitant smile. He held the baby against his chest as Kurogane had done earlier, and if he thought of the child as merely a possible shield against the other man's temper it didn't show in the way he carefully cradled her. "I didn't--"

"I don't care," Kurogane growled, interrupting whatever the blond was going to say. Didn't realize Kurogane had come back inside, didn't think it was a problem if he stuck his little nose wherever he wanted, didn't want to stay downstairs and do as he was told...whatever it was, Kurogane was certain it would irritate him. He didn't feel too far off from snapping and possibly startling the baby into crying, and that was definitely not something he wanted to hear right now ( _ever_ ) either.

"Just get downstairs." Kurogane turned and led by example immediately after delivering this order, letting the unspoken "or else" linger in the corner like an angry ghost. Soft footfalls followed him down, slow because Fai literally watched every step, leaning over while plotting out the next cautious toe-tap. He held the infant in such a way as to get every last centimeter of contact he possibly could, cradling her not just with his hands, fingers splayed out, but with his forearms as well. Kurogane hit the bottom quickly and turned and waited, watching, noticing the almost paranoid care the blond was taking and finding himself softened by it...bemused and amused.

...and then irritated and annoyed at himself for being so. It felt like blinking off a dazzle some street magician had cast over your eyes and then realizing how onlookers were giggling at you behind their hands.

The damage had been done, however, and when Fai hit the ground floor Kurogane was not unduly surly with him. The baby was placed back into her makeshift traveling assembly with the same care as she'd been brought downstairs. Once the basket was lifted up again Kurogane wordlessly herded the other man out into the garage. He stopped to lock the door behind him and then opened up the rear passenger side door, and when Fai sidled up Kurogane took the laundry basket from him and set it down inside. The blond hovered, trying to peep at the baby while she - or rather the container she lay in - was being buckled in, but the shopkeeper's broad torso blocked the basket from view and Fai soon gave it up and opened up the front passenger side door.

"Oi, not there," Kurogane said, deep voice muffled slightly as he spoke with his head still ducked into the car. "Other side."

"I'm driving?" Fai replied, clearly surprised at this thought, and Kurogane re-emerged with a snort.

"Hell no. Get in the back and watch her. Make sure she doesn't turn her face into the blankets or start to slide off the seat."

Fai looked no less startled now than he had a moment ago when he thought he might have to be the one to tackle the narrow mountain road in the dark in a strange car. Kurogane thought the pale face might have even turned a shade paler, and on impulse, gave the man a rough pat-smack on the back by way of encouragement. And to get the waffler into the car.

"Just tell me if something happens and I'll tell you what to do," Kurogane said, not wanting to freak the other man out by listing possible scenarios requiring intervention. If the nervous ignoramus suddenly found out about spit-up and colic and S.I.D.S. he'd probably refuse to get in the car at all. The reassurance seemed to do the trick and Fai got into the car without further delay, and when Kurogane got in himself and then glanced back he snorted to see that the blond had secured himself into the middle seat, the better to stare obsessively at his charge.

"You look like a vulture hovering over her like that," he commented. "Get behind me, stork; you're blocking the rear view."

"Stork?" Fai laughed lightly while unbuckling and re-seating himself off to the side.

"Tall, scrawny bird-brain who dropped a baby into my hands," replied Kurogane wryly. "Stork."

"The stork has a name," came the light, lilting reminder from the back, but Kurogane just grumbled something impolite and put the car in reverse.

"The grizzly bear has a temper," Fai then whispered noisily to the laundry basket.

"What did you call me?" Kurogane asked flatly, turning around again, ostensibly to check behind him as he pulled out into the driveway, but also to level a dark scowl at his passenger. He was blithely ignored however, as the baby chose that moment to snuffle and yawn, making a little _awpff_ noise that ended in a little mewl of a sigh. The display seemed to utterly enchant the hotelier, and Kurogane's death glare passed harmlessly over that golden fluff as it bent over the laundry basket.

"No growling, grumpy bear; the little kitten is sleepy."

"Keep that up and I'm going to strap you to the roof for the rest of the drive."

"But then who would watch our little kitty?"

"Shut. _Up_."

"Sorry, my little bird brain didn't understand that last one," the blond trilled, and then went back to making small talk with the baby.

Kurogane resisted the urge to slam his head against the steering wheel, instead contenting himself with a deep sigh and a reminder to himself that murder was illegal. After punching the proper button on the remote control for the garage door with slightly more force than was strictly necessary, making the plastic creak in protest, he threw the car into gear and began the long drive down the mountain.

"Hyuu~ I hadn't noticed before but Mister Bear has a nice car."

The long, _long_ drive.


	3. Drive to Mercy FAIL

The long, annoying drive turned out to not be quite so annoying nor anywhere near as long as Kurogane darkly predicted to himself as he drove down into and through Elk Ridge. Instead it was short and shocking, and he would have been glad to trade it with a promise to drive from his store to the Fluorite hotel in San Francisco with Fai in control of the radio the whole way.

Having once clued in to the fact that nicknames and silliness were slightly more effective than what seemed to be his habitual sweetly suave charm at prying sentences out of the shopkeeper, the blond kept up a running dialogue with his fellow passenger. The infant was mercifully asleep, lulled by the thrum and vibrations of the vehicle, and therefore blissfully unconscious of the stupidity she was being bombarded with. Kurogane, on the other hand, was peppered with the nicknames he'd unthinkingly kicked off until Fai finally teased more than just a short snarl from him. The dark-haired man envied the baby her unconscious state and cursed his own tongue and temper for providing entertainment to the stranger in his back seat.

The only thing he could think of to be thankful for was that his passenger seemed not to have any more liking of casual touch than Kurogane did himself. The babble could be tuned out with some effort, but if Fai started clinging or playing with his hair he'd have to stop the car so that he could break the man's fingers.

Once a conversation of sorts was established - impolite as it was on Kurogane's side - Fai cheerfully started up with his questions again. All the initial information-gathering attempts that had failed at the store were re-launched, and while the shopkeeper did not answer them graciously, he ended up giving away little scraps and shards of his history and private life just to minimize the petulant accusations of "the big growly grizzly bear" being as stingy with words as with honey.

...which was doubly stupid, because Kurogane hated sweets. But to avoid the whining, he answered the less invasive questions such as whether he'd lived here all his life (yes) and how long he'd been running the store (a few years). Queries about how he liked living here, whether business was good and the customers pleasant were all answered in much the same manner; everything was fine. He denied having any particular favorite colors, hobbies, animals or sports and claimed to eat, drink and listen to just about anything. More personal inquiries concerning reasons behind facts and choices and realities were flatly ignored and invariably followed by an exchange of silliness and snarls until Fai managed to gain a conversational toehold again.

Though the topics remained light and Kurogane's replies ultra-terse, Fai did not run out of things to say. They ran out of road first.

They left Elk Ridge behind and were only ten or so miles in to the main mountain pass when Kurogane came face to face with a wall of rock and snow rising up in his headlights. It was just around a sharp turn and he'd turned his head to look at the back seats for a split second, and so it took him by such surprise that it was like the mountain had suddenly decided to jump out in front of his car. The tail end of his umpteenth snarl to Fai to quit calling him Mister Grumpy Bear for God's sake was cut abruptly off, and after a split-second's freeze Kurogane bore down on the brakes firmly and steadily. He kept the car pointed straight since he was caught between rocks and a null space to the right and left. The Audi could handle a bump on the nose, but bringing down more rocks with a shuddering scrape against the mountainside or taking a swan dive off into nothingness were not viable options.

Kurogane stared blankly through the windshield even after the car came to a halt inches away from the rockslide, heart pounding and hands aching from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. It wasn't the unexpectedness of Mother Nature's little tricks that had him struggling to breathe, but rather the memory of how, on seeing that wall of white and black rising up before him, he'd thought for a split second that he'd been so distracted by Fai that he'd turned into the mountain instead. He'd almost jerked the wheel to the left to _get back onto the road_ and avoid the mountainside, and if he'd followed through with that thought instead of realizing...

He forced his hands to open and his arms to unlock, and with a slow, shaky breath, twisted in his seat to look back at his passengers. The baby was right where she was supposed to be - and in no critical state if the strident cries at being so rudely startled awake were anything to go by - and the basket she lay in was secure in its seat, held by both a seatbelt and a pair of thin arms flung out to encircle it.

Fai's entire body was out-flung, in fact. He seemed to have thrown himself violently to the side and was now staring up at Kurogane while lying almost prone across the middle seat. One long leg was crooked up and braced against the back of the driver's seat, and that and the seatbelt now half-strangling the blond seemed to be the only things keeping Fai from face-planting the edge of the laundry basket.

"I'm sorry," Fai whispered in a pause between the baby's yowls, wide-eyed and paler than ever, and Kurogane frowned because he didn't know what else to do. If the slender form was some sprite with power over weather and earth and a truly miserable notion of mischief that was one thing, but otherwise the dark-haired man could see no reason for the apology.

"What?" he asked, his own voice not much more than a harsh whisper, as if they were both afraid that talking too loudly might bring down more of the mountainside on top of them. Never mind the infant crying lustily in the laundry basket.

"For distracting you."

Ruddy eyes stared a moment longer as he absorbed the fact that Fai was taking on the blame for this near-tragedy, when it was Kurogane's fault for letting himself be distracted. Fai was an ignorant city-dweller who obviously couldn't be expected to know how to behave up here in the fresh air, while he himself knew damned well that these roads demanded respect, and even now Kurogane could hardly believe how easily this strange stranger got under his skin. The solitary shopkeeper was a master at ignoring, shrugging off and shutting out. How had he come to be bickering back and forth with this idiot as if they were two kids picking at each other across a picnic table?

"Forget it," he said dismissively, neither accepting the apology nor agreeing with the need for it. "Just sit tight." With no warning or explanation, he unbuckled himself - telling himself that his hands were shaking because of cold and adrenaline, and not because the crying of an infant was ringing through the car - and got out to take stock of the situation. Fai's startled query about where he was going got ignored. Where was there for him to go, after all?

A quick survey was all that he needed to know that they were at once safe and in great danger. He'd stopped the car quickly and steadily enough that they were still solidly in their own lane, but they were definitely not going to be able to proceed as planned. The Audi's headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating the blockade of rock and shredded shrubbery well enough for Kurogane to see that it would take at least a day or two for road crews to clear it away, and that only if the weather stayed clear enough for them to get up here and work. A thin wind whistled up the road, pushing some snowflakes ahead of it and making the shopkeeper none too optimistic. That storm was already on its way.

He paced around the car, shoulders hunched against the cold seeping through his coat and frown growing deeper as he eyeballed distances. There were two lanes but they were narrow things with no shoulder on either the mountain or cliff side, and his vehicle wasn't exactly tiny. It wasn't as if he was driving a Chevy Suburban or limousine by any means, but the math still made him uneasy. Unpleasant though realities were, they had to be faced, and he bit off a curse before walking to the rear driver's side door and opening it up so that he could lean in and talk to his passenger.

"Grab her out of the basket, hold her inside your coat and get out," he said without preamble, raising his voice slightly to speak over the whistle of the wind and the baby's continued complaints. Fai was leaning over her improvised carseat and cooing at her soothingly but she'd already proven to be the sort who needed all-out cuddling to calm down and was having none of it. "I have to turn the car around so we can head back up." Instead of immediate compliance, Fai withdrew his hand from the laundry basket and looked at Kurogane as if doubting his hearing. Or the other man's sanity.

"She'll freeze!" the blond protested. "Why would we have to get out? It's not like our combined weight is going to drag the car off the road as you drive."

Kurogane clenched his teeth and wished the hotelier was more timid, less logical, more easily cowed and swayed and bullied around...anything that would let the dark-haired man avoid lengthy - and awkward - confessions.

"Just do it, all right?" he snapped impatiently, and then added an explanation to bolster his orders when the other man remained firmly planted in his seat, making no moves that spoke compliance. "I can get the car turned around but it'll be close and I'll be able to concentrate better if you're both safe over there." ( _And he wouldn't have to block out the baby's fretting, wouldn't have to sweat as he imagined the grouchy little complaints turning into piercing wails echoing off the surfaces of a car swallowed up by darkness and--_ )

"Standing out in the freezing cold by a mountainside that's already proven quite clearly to be prone to crumbling is not _safe_ ," Fai retorted, but sounding more perplexed with the illogical request than truly angry or annoyed. Kurogane took a breath and tried to marshall more arguments. If he miscalculated, or if the cliffside decided to get in on the crumbling act, he could throw open the door and probably jump out in time but Fai wouldn't be able to pull the same stunt with a baby in his arms. And if one of the rear tires went off the edge, Fai's weight might in fact make an unfortunate difference in their fate, light though he looked. Besides all this, the baby's noise was increasing and one of the prime rules for passengers was always not to distract the driver even under auspicious circumstances, and these circumstances were nowhere near auspicious.

"I just can't. I can't have her in the car when I do this," was what actually fell out of Kurogane's mouth when he opened it, and then he clapped his traitorous lips shut and glared down into blue eyes because he couldn't think of anything further to say.

Fai just stared back at him for a while. Ten seconds, maybe more; long enough for dark eyes to see confusion and fruitless attempts to understand and some strange, nameless pain cross that pale face. Kurogane stood outside the car, his body shielding the occupants from the worst of the wind and increasing snow, hands biting down against the metal frame through his gloves and waiting with a strange sort of desperation. The baby wasn't his, but the baby was his for now. His to keep safe, and he couldn't do it with her in the car.

"I don't know why you think you can't, but you're going to have to try," Fai finally said, and his voice was soft enough that Kurogane was surprised he could hear it so clearly. It was as calm and steady as Kurogane was not, and seeped into the edges of him like warmth from a blanket thrown over his shoulders. The words came out slowly but there was no condescension in them; only the faint hesitation of a man edging out over uncertain footing. "I'll never make it back to Elk Ridge in the dark with snow coming down and a baby in my arms. If you go over the edge it's not going to matter that she and I didn't go over with you. We're still not surviving."

Contrary to what he was saying, Fai then reached down and unbuckled his seatbelt. But instead of reaching over to lift up the baby, he swung his legs out of the car and then hopped out as Kurogane automatically stepped back to make room for him.

"Go really slow," Fai instructed, snugging his hood up and fastening a button just under his chin. "I'll stay right by the car and watch the edge, and I'll let you know if you get too close." He gave the Audi's body a couple of solid thwacks with one hand to demonstrate the proposed warning system and then smiled up at Kurogane. The taller found the expression to be more reassuring and heartening than it had any right to be, considering whom it was coming from, but didn't waste time examining this disparity between his expectations and his reality. The baby was still in the car fretting to herself, but Fai's was admittedly a better plan than having the passengers freezing on the side of the road or remaining in the back of the car, doing nothing but adding to the tension. Logic finally won out over gut ( _guilt_ ) and the dark-haired man gave in with a nod.

"I'll cut back this way and then pull forward," he said, gesturing to add clarity, and then got back into the car. The infant was fussing harder and working her way up to an all-out cry at being temporarily abandoned - again, the poor mite - and Kurogane twisted in his seat to reach back toward the laundry basket.

"Hey Princess, pipe down for a minute, all right?" he asked. "You're making me nervous." Bracing his feet against the floor, Kurogane stretched back to sneak a hand into the basket to give the infant a little belly-rub through the layers of fabric she was wrapped in, and surprisingly enough she did as requested. Her face had been scrunched up in displeasure but at the jiggle she relaxed, blinked open her eyes and let her last cry taper off into a little rowl instead. He gave her another caress and she squirmed and made a face.

"Yeah, I know. I don't like it either but we're stuck with each other for now, so let's make a deal, okay? I'll take care of you, and you don't make it any harder than it needs to be."

She blinked at him and then blew a raspberry.

"Good enough," he muttered, and then threw the car into reverse. His foot remained hard on the brake while he told himself in no uncertain terms to get a grip, and then he took a deep breath and twisted around to peer out the back window. Fai was a ghostly presence near the gas tank, out of sight unless Kurogane turned the other way in his seat, so he put the man out of his mind and concentrated on slowly and steadily backing the Audi up in a tight curve. 

He reversed the car as far as he dared and then stopped, looking over his left shoulder briefly to get a better view of his safety measure. Fai had apparently not fallen off the cliffside, nor had he frozen into a dork-sicle in the middle of the road, but there was no muffled thud-thud or dull reverberations through the body. Gritting his teeth, Kurogane committed his faith - and potentially their lives - to the blond and edged the car back further, now looking forward to judge how much more room he might need instead of staring anxiously behind.

There was still no signal from Fai, but once Kurogane judged that he had room enough he put the car into drive and hauled the steering wheel around, straightening the car out so that it was nearly cross-ways over both lanes. A quick glance was thrown over one shoulder to make sure he didn't mow the blond down, and then Kurogane began backing up again. This time should have been easier since he wasn't heading straight for the edge of the road, but it was still nerve-wracking because he could see Fai right smack in the middle of his rear view mirror. He moved the vehicle slowly enough for a one-legged duck covered in molasses to have been safe from becoming road paté, but he was still uneasy as hell.

Apparently he trusted a duck's survival instincts more than he trusted the hotelier's common sense.

The Audi was now pointed back toward the way it had come. Though he doubted anyone else would be coming down the lonely road at this time of night, Kurogane straightened the vehicle out until it was completely out of the other lane. His foot was firmly on the brake and he'd even begun engaging the parking brake, but when a light vibration shuddered through the car he still stiffened up, clenching the steering wheel so hard he was surprised it didn't dent under his fingers. He glanced out the window but Fai was already opening the rear door and poking his head in.

"Are we done? Even if we're not done can I come back in?" The man's voice aimed at cheerfulness but shivered miserably, and Kurogane felt both amusement and pity.

"No," he deadpanned, and the blond flumped into the car with a laugh.

"Mean old bear," Fai chided, almost stuttering with cold. "Not all of us have shaggy fur and thick layers of fat to keep the cold out."

"Thick layers of _what_?"

Kurogane checked to make sure the parking brake was fully engaged and then turned almost completely around in his seat to fix the blond with a cold hard glare. His weight began with a two, but he was also six-foot five barefoot and could bench press three hundred pounds without worrying about not having a spotter. He could let the comment about shaggy fur pass since he had no illusions about his hair having anything remotely resembling style, but _fat_ did not have any place in his life except in getting trimmed off his meat and thrown into the trash. He wasn't really all that vain about his muscles - the pre-shower flexes before the mirror were just to make sure he wasn't letting himself go, thanks - but he wasn't about to let anyone accuse him of layering a sleek coat of blubber over them either. Fat meant lazy and careless, and Kurogane did _not_ do lazy and careless.

"Thick layers of wool and cotton?" amended Fai, but his manner was cheeky instead of repentant or fearful, and the adjustment only earned him a tightening of the frown already knitted over narrowed eyes and an impolite-sounding grumble. The blond attempted to pout, but had to give it up after only a brief effort because his teeth were chattering too violently for him to maintain the expression. Kurogane felt a tiny stab of guilt at having made the man stand out in the wind and snow while he chatted with their charge.

"Buckle up," he growled, and then turned around to get the car going back up the mountain. It wasn't exactly an effusion of gratitude, but it was better than the "shut up" that had been forming earlier. The heater was already on high but he turned the fan all the way up and ignored the cheers and muffled clapping from the back seat that ensued.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Kurogane pulled back into the driveway of his home and workplace within an hour of leaving it. He felt like he'd aged ten years.

After driving slowly into the garage and cutting the engine he just sat there a moment, taking in a long, even breath and figuring out what to do next. The drive back had been uneventful but he'd kept himself completely focused on the road instead of letting his mind drift even one millimeter to ponder next steps. The blond in the back, perhaps chastened by his recent misadventures, had stayed uncharacteristically silent and the baby had done her part by obligingly letting the car rock her back to sleep.

He moved somewhat mechanically after a bit, unbuckling himself and getting out of the car. It prompted Fai to follow suit and soon they were back in the pretty much the exact same situation as they'd been before, except that the baby had woken up, gotten a hand free and was trying to stuff one dimpled fist into her mouth. She lay semi-quietly in her doggie bed and laundry basket combination, drooling and mwar-ing around her knuckles. Fai, who'd carried her back inside, knelt by her and then looked up with a complicated expression of a sardonically raised eyebrow, soft look and rueful smile topped off with a breathy laugh and sigh.

"Well, that didn't work out as planned. What now?"

Kurogane spared a moment to roll his eyes at Fai's continued love of stating the obvious, then thought a moment and finally shook his head, unable to think of much to actually _do_. Hindsight offered up the thought that he should have stopped off in Elk Grove and tried to leave the baby - and the blond - at the little clinic. It sounded like an idea good enough to be wistful over, but a second thought on the matter dashed even the misty dream; the clinic was limited in scope and did not operate 24 hours a day besides; he couldn't have left her overnight, much less for two or three days until the road down the mountain was cleared. The police might have been able to find families in the friendly little community that would have been perfectly willing to take in a stray baby, but it wouldn't have sat well with Kurogane. He felt a sort of responsibility for her now ( _felt protective and possessive and it hurt_), and couldn't have just handed her off to some random person and slept easily that night.

Somehow the two blonds seemed like a package deal, and he didn't think long about how he could have dropped Fai off at the lodge and just gone home again with only one stranger in his back seat.

"Call the hospital again. Tell them the road's blocked and there's a storm coming so we'll have to keep the baby with us for at least a few days."

"Here?" Fai asked, looking startled at the thought. He gave a little heave of his palms against his knees and rose to his feet.

"No, the daycare next door," Kurogane replied testily. "Where else?"

"My cabin isn't too much further up the mountain," the blond offered. The taller's immediate reaction was negative and scrawled - _scowled_ \- all over his face, but not based on any real reason except that he didn't want to stay at a Fluorite's schmantzy little getaway when he could stay right at home instead. Before he could do much more than twist his mouth at the idea, however, Fai spoke again.

"I have extra beds. All sorts of stuff for weathering unusually long storms, too, like generators - I haven't had to use them before but I know they're well maintained - oh, and a whole wall of firewood, pantry full of water, enough dry and canned food to make a fort, things like that."

The mention of extra beds was given hesitatingly and quickly passed, as if the blond was embarrassed to admit that he knew that it was a good argument for choosing his place over Kurogane's. If he hadn't snuck upstairs he wouldn't have known that there were three bedrooms but only one with any furnishings, and the homeowner's frown knitted a little deeper at the reminder. He had just the one bed and a couch big enough for sitting comfortably but not long enough to stretch out on, and while there was amusement in the idea of forcing Fai to "rough it" it also foretold an unacceptable amount of whining. The three of them riding out the storm at their current location was not exactly ideal.

"I don't have baby stuff of course, but I can finally become your customer," the blond added, rucking back his coat so that he could pat what was probably a wallet tucked into a back pocket. Kurogane automatically glanced down at the gesture and determinedly dragged his eyes right back up once he realized his eyes were tracing the outline of a slim hip. The day had become complicated enough; he didn't need to add solitude-fueled yearnings to the mix. "We'll stuff your car full of diapers and milk and all hole up at my place until the road's clear."

"All of us." It was a simple phrase but fell heavily between them, and Fai's smile turned upside down into a pout, saved from being overly annoying by the flash of real worry in those big blue eyes.

"You're weren't planning to just drop us off at my cabin and leave, were you?"

"Hell no," Kurogane retorted immediately, almost shuddering at the thought of this total incompetent responsible for the safety and well-being of the infant. "Leaving her alone with you would be child abuse."

"Sooo...you're going to drop me off at my cabin and then race the storm back so you can spend three days teaching our little kitty here how to restock shelves?" The little bow of Fai's mouth had turned right side up again and the question was asked with a teasing sort of confidence. The hotelier didn't know how right he was, but he was right, damn him.

Kurogane frowned anew but didn't argue, unable to deny that the care and feeding of an infant was easier the more hands there were on deck. The squirmer at their feet wasn't quite a newborn, but he thought she looked too young to be sleeping through the night just yet. And since she wasn't old enough to crawl around and get into trouble, she also wasn't old enough to entertain herself with a movie or any such thing.

Babies were exhausting.

"I can't just leave the store untended," Kurogane said, making one last effort to avoid becoming Fai's guest. Admittedly, he had no better idea to substitute for the one he was resisting, but his stubborn streaks didn't always go hand in hand with logic and pragmatism. "Sometimes people can't make it into Elk Grove and I'm the only thing between them and starvation or hypothermia."

"You're here twenty four seven, three hundred and sixty five?" Fai asked, one eyebrow cocked dubiously. "You never get sick or go see a movie?"

"I leave sometimes," the shopkeeper snapped, feeling unaccountably defensive about his lifestyle all of a sudden. "But I'm never gone for more than a day without giving advance notice; I can't just take off on a whim. I have responsibilities." He couldn't help adding a bit of bite to the last word, thinking as he did that a Fluorite wouldn't know what it meant if it didn't have the word "fiscal" in front of it. The little jab didn't ruffle or rile the blond however. If anything he only got a little more thoughtful.

"So...what happens if someone drags their poor frozen body to your general store while you're out? Up creek sans paddle?"

"There's a storage shed 'round the side," Kurogane explained with a jerk of his head toward the front door. "I keep emergency supplies in there and a way to get in touch with the Elk Grove police; people can take what they need or even shelter there temporarily. They leave money if they can, and I don't leave so much stuff in there that I can't eat the loss if they don't."

"And the reason you can't just leave notes on your door and in the shed explaining that you're away for the duration of the storm on a humanitarian life-preserving mission is...?"

Fai withstood the glare he was subjected to admirably, despite all Kurogane's efforts to burn a hole through the smartass's forehead with his eyeballs and ire.

"Fine," Kurogane sighed.

"Canned food fort for three?" Fai asked happily, while the baby at their feet gave up on trying to eat her fist and started mewling for attention.

" _No_ ," the taller replied in the same tone that men used with particularly dense dogs or stubborn children. _Bad Fluorite. No forts._ "I'll babysit _her_. You entertain yourself."

"Mean old bear. I'm providing room and board and buying diapers; can't you unbend a little?"

" _Awrlah._ "

"Speaking of buying disapers," Kurogane persisted, ignoring the idiocy and trying to keep them on track. "I'll get some boxes and you start pulling things off the shelves. We'll need enough for ten days--"

"Ten days?!"

" _Umyaw_."

"...just in case," Kurogane finished with poorly feigned patience. "These storms usually blow over in three days, but they can last longer. How can you not know this? You've had a place up here for years."

"Well yes, but I don't live here; I just visit. I never bothered to memorize weather patterns."

" _Aaawah? Aamph!_ "

It made sense and even in his own mind Kurogane knew that he ought to concede the point and just move them all along, but he was stressed out and grouchy at the idea of babysitting these two strangers through a storm. ( _Uncomfortable in his own skin because someone was crawling under it, getting past defenses that had always been adequate before._ ) The idea of being trapped with them through the storm, living with them under one roof like a little family, disturbed him. Disturbed him right up the wall, across the ceiling and set him down grumpy as hell on the other side.

He felt off-balance, uncertain even about whom he felt the most uncertain about; Fai or the baby. The baby was obvious. Fai...not so much. Not at all, in fact. And so Kurogane found himself antagonistic, not just irritable.

"Typical," he growled, calling up everything he could remember to hate about the city and the people that filled it, as if trying to remind himself why he hated this man. The problem was that he didn't hate the man. Another problem was that he hadn't quite realized this yet and gave his mouth free reign to attack, as if subconsciously hoping to make _Fai_ hate _him_ so he needn't expend so much effort on making sure they didn't get along so well.

"Of what?" Fai queried, blinking in honest puzzlement.

" _Aaawr!_ " cried the baby from the floor, and then suddenly they were all talking practically over each other.

"Of a city-bred brat too used to--"

"Whoa, when was your last rabies--"

" _AwwwrrrAAAAAAAAA!_ "

The two adults had both raised their voices a bit but the baby between them suddenly let loose with a piercing wail that stopped them both cold. The little mite was clearly upset at something, perhaps being ignored or the mounting tension in the air, and far more insistent about putting her own wants forward than Kurogane was about giving Fai an earful or than Fai was about defending himself. The dark-haired man reacted first, crouching down for a moment to pluck the fusser out of her makeshift bassinet and nearly colliding with Fai on the way up as the blond belatedly attempted to get in on the act.

"Hey there. You're fine," Kurogane soothed, tucking the baby close and adding the rumble of his voice to the light bounces and pats he was giving her. The rhythm and repetitiveness of simple lullabies were even more effective at calming upset infants, but he wasn't about to break into song with an audience capable of comment. "Calm down, Princess."

"Precious," Fai reminded him, possibly trying to be helpful. He was neither too chipper nor sullen; more uncertain and unhappy and yet somehow still persistently _there_ and close.

"That sounds stupid," the shopkeeper grumbled, but none too harshly. He was relieved that the other man seemed as willing as he himself was to ignore and step past their almost-fight. The scathing commentary on modern, microwave-minded civilization that he'd been about to unleash had been stupid, even childish and he wanted to forget about it. Fai might be a Fluorite but so far he hadn't really done, said or _been_ anything that actually offended Kurogane. The man was chatty and rather too bubbly and a damn sight too pretty but he hadn't deserved the thankfully aborted tirade.

The baby hadn't gotten upset enough to break into an all-out tantrum and had calmed down fairly quickly as well. She snuggled contentedly against Kurogane now and just made a few last grumbles as if trying to make sure the men fully understood that they had erred and she was much displeased.

"She's got little crowns on her pj's and is demanding as hell," Kurogane observed dryly. "Princess is fine."

"Well if we're just making names up, let's call her Kitten. Kitty for short." The baby yawned and made a little mewling noise at the end of it, causing Fai to laugh and gesture to her with a flourish. "See? It's perfect."

_It's stupid. You're stupid. Everything that falls out of your mouth is stupid and I'm stupid for letting it get to me so much._

Kurogane closed his eyes and sighed, biting all these thoughts back and reexamining their plan, looking - hoping - for holes. They needed a place big enough for them to weather the storm without stepping on each other. Fai's cabin fit the bill, unfortunately. The baby needed looking after, which Kurogane could do and Fai could help out with. She also needed supplies, which Kurogane could provide and Fai could pay for. The baby herself even provided something quite as necessary as the other things; enough distraction to keep Kurogane from killing his proposed host.

Oddly enough, when you lumped the three of them together, things balanced out fairly neatly.

"Call her whatever you want," the shopkeeper finally said. "Just stop calling me bear-things, and go get--"

"Aw, but it's perfect. Big growly grizzly bear holding a cute mewy mini kitty," Fai interrupted with a ridiculous smile, cutting off Kurogane's second attempt to get the supply run started.

"And a stupid long-legged stork who can't seem to remember that we have more important things to do than _stand around talking_ while a storm blows in," growled Kurogane. "Go. Get. Diapers."

Fai laughed at him but then turned and started scanning the aisles, so Kurogane didn't have to put the baby down in order to pummel the man into compliance.

"Back half of the store, third aisle from the far wall," the store owner directed, and then began walking away himself in order to retrieve boxes. Ten days' worth of baby supplies was not something that would fit into a couple of paper bags. He disappeared into the storage section of the building and rummaged up some cardboard. He should have put the baby back down into the doggie bed to free up his hands, but hindsight was an uncooperative bitch at the best of times. Kurogane consumed a few extra minutes breaking down the pile of boxes into flat forms that he could carry back one-handed, grumping out loud to the tot who seemed to find him as amusing as Fai did. She squealed and awrr'd and eventually teased a fond smile from him since no one was looking.

He ate up some more time going upstairs to pack a bag for himself, clothes and toiletries and a few other odds and ends, and by the time he was ready to return to the shop front nearly half an hour had passed. Balancing a squirmy bundle in the crook of one elbow, keeping a duffel bag hiked up on one shoulder and hauling an awkward handful of boxes took a fair amount of concentration, and Kurogane did not notice the pile of goods Fai had amassed until he was almost on top of it.

"What. The hell."

"No?" Fai queried, with a reappearance of the pout. He'd been standing hipshot over the pile with a proud smile like he was playing king of the mountain. At Kurogane's expression, however, the hands on his hips fell away and disappeared behind his back like those of a contrite schoolboy.

"You were planning to pour her a bowl of Cheerios tomorrow morning?" Kurogane asked in exasperation, propping the flattened boxes against the counter and letting the duffel slide off his arm, then toeing a gallon of whole milk. One of three such bottles.

"Well, no...but she needs milk, right? And I thought the Cheerios would be fun for her to snack on," Fai rationalized, and then trailed off as he looked at the other man's expression. "So...no go on bear-face pancakes either?"

The infant gummed Kurogane's shirtfront and then wobbled her head back to gaze up at him with trusting, hazy blue eyes. He patted her and nodded.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I'll protect you."

"That's not fair," Fai protested, though he also laughed. "You knew I didn't know much about babies. A little more detailed direction wouldn't have come amiss, you know."

"Anything," the taller corrected. "You don't know _anything_ about babies. Leave the diapers. Put everything else back. No, scratch that. Hold the baby. I'll sort it out."

This exchange of duties was met with relief and approval, and the blond immediately pranced forward with his hands outstretched. He was a little overeager - or had terrible depth perception - and ended up entirely within Kurogane's private space, sweater soft and warm against tanned knuckles, pale hands settling lightly on the other man's arms to steady himself as he brought himself to a halt. Fai tipped his face up with a little twist to get his long bangs out of his face, and inexplicably just stayed like that a moment, looking up and smiling and just...looking up and smiling.

Before Kurogane could get too uncomfortable ( _or have too many disturbing thoughts because the man wasn't just too damn pretty, he was inexplicably tempting_) the blond dropped his gaze and hands to the infant between them. Hesitant as he had been before, Fai seemed to pick things up very quickly and now he deftly slipped slender fingers under the baby's armpits and lifted her away. It should have been a relief to have the transfer made so simply but Kurogane just stood there a moment, watching and struggling and not moving away like he'd planned. Too many things were distracting him, and one of them was the fact that he was finding so many things distracting in the first place.

The feel of one of Fai's hands worming its way between the infant's body and his. A sharp pang of regret and possessiveness at that warm little bundle being lifted away. Trying not to remember and compare. Being impressed despite himself at how naturally Fai was taking to nanny duties. Wondering what shampoo it was - and it had to be the shampoo, and not anything about the blond himself - that made Kurogane want to lean forward as the shorter man leaned in; press closer and _definitely not nuzzle what the hell was he thinking_?

As soon as the baby was out of his arms, Kurogane moved away quickly enough that it was almost as if he was jerking himself back. He didn't stay to determine whether or not Fai noticed and turned another one of those puzzled, pondering looks on him, instead stalking away to begin putting away almost everything the well-meaning ignoramus had pulled off the shelves. Fai had mentioned not needing anything for himself and having a goodly stockpile against possible storms, so Kurogane assumed that everything in the heap of groceries was meant for the baby and shook his head or sighed over almost everything he picked up.

Whole milk. Cheerios. Understandable, he supposed. At least the dork hadn't grabbed Cocoa Puffs. Enriched white bread. Peanut butter. Strawberry jelly. Marshmallows. God save the poor mite; had Fai been planning to make PBJs and s'mores? He didn't find any chocolate bars or graham crackers, and when he came upon the ripe bananas and yogurt he realized that Fai had ransacked his store for everything soft enough to be gummed instead of chewed. There was an attempt at logic behind the pile of infant-unfriendly foods and the next time Kurogane shook his head, there was a little twitch at the side of his mouth that could have been a smile.

The items that took the longest to sort out were the jars of baby food. What he thought might be random piles of little glass jars turned out to be individual meal towers in ten neat rows. After blinking at them for a while Kurogane realized that Fai was attentive and observant and really, really clueless. The shopkeeper had stated that babies needed more than three meals per day, and the blond had apparently translated that bit of information into "babies eat like hobbits". There were two breakfasts in each row consisting of cereal and a fruit, followed by two lunches of a random meat and vegetables and another fruit. There was a single fruit jar following the first four towers which seemed to be for afternoon tea, and then two dinner piles that rotated chicken-and-noodles, beef-and-veggies and turkey dinner. Plus the three gallons of milk and other groceries.

The perfect baby food meal plan for a ravenously hungry baby about six to eight months older than the one Fai was holding, plus enough snacks for two or three older siblings.

Kurogane put it all back except for the jars of fruit and squash, just in case the baby proved to be old enough to start on mashed foods. He also kept one of the boxes of infant cereal on the same principle, though he was betting she was still at the formula-only stage. The diapers and wipes stayed as well, being of exactly the same variety as the ones Kurogane had already pulled off the shelves, further proving that Fai was at least paying attention. One extra box of diapers was added because obviously Fai had no idea how often babies needed changing. After he filled a box full of bottles, baby shampoo, rubber-coated spoons and an assortment of little odds and ends, he deemed their pile of supplies good.

Watching Fai's eyebrows do acrobatics as he rang everything up was rather amusing. A Fluorite hardly needed to worry about expenses at this level, but his ignorance about babies extended to how pricey their supplies could get.

"I _should_ call you Caviar," Fai laughingly said to the baby in his arms. "You're expensive, Little Kitty."

Kurogane made no comments of his own, only watching the man do a sort of waltz back and forth with their kitten-princess-whatever in front of the counter. The latest modification of his impression of Fai strengthened; the man knew absolutely jack and diddly squat about infants but was eager and able to learn. After having watched Kurogane, Fai was mimicking the way the taller had held and patted the baby and becoming more used to it with each lightly bouncing step. She seemed to appreciate the effort and put up no fusses, only gumming at her knuckles and occasionally lifting her head to take a wobbly look around while Fai nosed at her temple and smiled.

Kurogane found the sight so charming that he wanted to punch himself.

"All right, pay up," he said gruffly, snapping out of his absent-minded ( _admiring, appreciative and enchanted_ ) eyeballing and folding together the last box top with more force than was technically necessary.

"Hm? Oh sure," Fai replied, and then danced over to him. Kurogane expected the infant to be handed off, but instead the blond swung his hip around and smiled sweetly up.

"Do you mind?" Fai asked, while Kurogane blinked and refused to comprehend what the blond was obviously asking. "My hands are full."

"Right back pocket," he added, when the shopkeeper did not move.

Kurogane's options were rather narrow at that point; accept the invitation to basically cop a feel or politely decline with a sharp, swift blow to that empty head. Sadly, the presence of the infant did not make the latter option feasible, and he had to settle for something in between pickpocketing and pugilism. It took him a moment to find words and another moment to make sure his voice didn't come out so loudly and abruptly that their little ward would burst into tears.

"Give me the baby and get your own damn wallet," he finally said, grinding the words out slowly.

Fai's sugary little smile twisted and changed into something a little more rueful and real before disappearing behind a ridiculous pout.

"But she's soft and warm and so cuddly," he replied mournfully. "I don't want to let her go."

 _And I don't want to grab your ass,_ thought Kurogane. A little voice in the back of his mind immediately contested that point, but he steadfastly ignored it. He didn't voice the thought - or the follow-up - because while he was certain that the blond was teasing him deliberately, he didn't want to say so and give Fai an opening to protest his innocence and perhaps add "naughty" to the "Mister Grumpy Grizzly Bear" nickname.

"You can hold her until your arms fall off when we're at your place," Kurogane said instead, and reached for the infant.

"You'll need your hands free to ring me up anyway," Fai protested, and twirled to keep the little girl out of reach. And his rear end turned toward Kurogane.

"I'll put her back in the basket."

"She might cry."

"She _might_ cry, but I _will_ punch you if you keep arguing with me over every little thing," Kurogane growled, rolling his eyes at how they couldn't seem to do even the simplest thing without getting into a verbal tussle over it. And yet, while he was getting irritated and annoyed all over again, it was markedly different than before. He didn't even bother telling himself anymore that he looked down on the blond for a spoiled, stupid or self-centered idiot; the man was a dork but had more good qualities than bad, and had only shown silly sides instead of dark ones thus far.

If the hotelier had truly been the rotten-souled, black-hearted city sort that Kurogane had been telling himself Fai was, they wouldn't be fighting over who would get to hold the baby right now. The hotelier would have treated the little mite like a distasteful burden to be gotten rid of as hastily as possible. He would have ordered Kurogane about like a servant and very likely pitched fits or threatened legal action when the shopkeeper didn't immediately jump on command. The child would have been dumped on Kurogane like so much garbage and all of the focus would have been on getting Fai to his cabin as quickly as possible so that he could get started on whatever it was that he'd come up here to do; work or play or just stare out the window with a drink in his hand while quoting Hemingway to himself.

Instead, Fai was doing his level best to be friendly and helpful. At least, as friendly and helpful as possible while not doing anything that Kurogane asked - told - him to do. And instead of Kurogane actually doing everything he could think of to kick these two out of his presence and life as quickly and efficiently as possible, he was bickering back and forth with the blond like he was an old friend, comfortable enough to be rough with, close enough not to have to be careful with.

He'd wanted to keep these two unexpected intrusions at arm's length or more, but realities had to be faced. The three of them were stuck with each other for now, and Kurogane gave up on using shallow snap judgments like shields to keep the two fair-haired strangers out of his life ( _thoughts, interest, heart_ ). It wasn't working anyway. The infant had somehow or the other gotten him at least halfway wrapped around her chubby little finger already, and Fai was standing in his personal space and shining a big brilliant smile up at him while holding the baby securely. Stubbornly.

"I think you might kill me as soon as I give her up," Fai noted, grinning cheekily up at him now and refusing to give up his living shield. Any hopes of her cooperation in the matter went unfulfilled; the baby seemed perfectly content to be the hotelier's hostage and showed no signs of spitting up or shrieking. Seeing no end to the debate, Kurogane gave in before Fai could start teasing him about being _too_ unwilling to go pocket-picking.

"Fine," he grumbled, nipping a sleek leather wallet out of Fai's pants as quickly as he could. "But you're buying some alcohol, too. If I'm going to be sitting out a storm with _two_ high-maintenance babies to deal with I'm going to need a drink." He tossed the wallet onto the counter by the register and stalked away to fortify their supplies with a bottle or two.

"Drunken babysitting?" Fai asked when he returned, voice still somewhat teasing but also sounding honestly surprised. "Bad bear." He gave a nod when Kurogane held up the first credit card he'd come across in the wallet and continued eyeing the shopkeeper wonderingly.

"I do not get _drunk_ ," Kurogane replied with asperity. He'd inherited a cast iron liver from his mother and could have put a bad dent into his entire inventory of alcohol without suffering much effect except perhaps becoming a bit more mellow. The tolerance had proved to be a curse of sorts during a time of his life when he'd wanted very, very badly to be insensible to the world but he'd come to be thankful for it in the end. "One drink isn't going to make me clumsy. It'll just hopefully make _you_ a little more bearable."

"You mean you're going to try to get _me_ drunk instead? Naughty bear."

Kurogane cursed to himself as he failed to avoid the "naughty" nickname. He did not grace the accusation with a reply and wordlessly stepped back around with the wallet folded up again and a dark foreboding budding in his chest. Fai swung his hip around, confirming the taller's suspicion and drawing out a much put-upon sigh from the shopkeeper. Not feeling very sanguine about the possibility of winning a second round of an argument he'd lost once already, Kurogane replaced the wallet with the same economy of movement he'd used in removing it and kept his eyes averted so he wouldn't see the knowing, teasing grin that he was sure was on Fai's face.

"Wait here while I load up the car," he said, stooping to stack a box on top of another, but then straightened back up again empty handed as a thought struck him. "And when I say 'here' I mean this room," he added pointedly, one eyebrow up and one finger jabbing downward at the floor.

"Or else I'll feature in the next 'When Bears Attack'. I understand," Fai replied with an exaggerated nod, and then gave a rueful laugh. "And when I say 'I understand', I mean you're terrible for casting that in my face."

"Don't invade if you don't want to get captured," advised the shopkeeper, and then walked away with two boxes of baby sundries. One more trip sufficed to gather up the remaining supplies as well as his overnight bag, and Fai followed him with their little ward once again tucked into her laundry basket and a stream of chatter flowing from his mouth. He escaped the noise for a minute or two when he left the car to do a final lock-check and to leave a note of explanation in the emergency supply shed, but Fai chirped up as soon as he returned.

"Come on, admit it; it'll be fun," the blond cajoled as Kurogane settled himself behind the wheel. "Think of it as a vacation."

"Vacation?" the dark-haired man asked dryly, putting worlds of doubt into his tone.

"Well, an adventure then. Unexpected, unpredictable, a little bit of danger and a good bit of fun."

"I'll give you everything except for the 'fun' bit," Kurogane replied, sparing another sigh while backing the car up - again, and hopefully the trip would be uneventful this time - and pausing in the driveway to close the garage door remotely. "Taking care of a strange baby in a strange cabin with a strange stranger is not my idea of fun."

"Oh come on," Fai laughed brightly. "I'm not _that_ bad."

Kurogane threw the car into park and twisted around in his seat so that he could fix the blond - still smiling but also blinking at him now in surprise at this sudden scrutiny - with a long look. He took in blue eyes and cheeks lightly pinked in the cold air framed with fluffy hair and fur, remembered how he'd jumped to judge upon finding out who the stranger was, and thought of how he'd had to revise his opinions as he'd gotten to know what the man was actually like.

"Yeah, you're all right," he admitted after a moment. No cheers or cheeky commentary burst forth from the back seat as he put the car back in gear and began navigating his way up to Valley Road. It seemed that his sudden about-face had taken Fai by surprise, and Kurogane decided that the admission had been worth it for the few minutes of silence it bought him.


	4. Drive to cabin instead

Despite setting out on their second car trip on a much better foot than before, Kurogane navigated the narrow road up to Fai's cabin with increasing trepidation. He had plenty of gas and the road conditions were as good as he could have expected; it was not the journey that he was uneasy about, but the destination. He thought of his sparsely furnished but familiar little home with a fondness that it had hardly ever called up in the past few years as he wondered what his temporary shelter for the next few days would be like.

Fai was subdued, perhaps still suffering under the awful impression their first nearly disastrous outing together had made. He occasionally chirped up to make sure Kurogane didn't accidentally take a side road he shouldn't or answer a question about how many more miles there were to go, but otherwise remained largely silent. The laundry basket's occupant also refrained from making many peeps and indeed seemed to fall asleep during the first mile. The lack of noise might have made Kurogane ever so slightly anxious, save that glances in the rear view mirror showed him Fai obsessively staring into the basket.

It was reassuring, but on the flip side all this silence left plenty of room for the imagination to build an absolutely hideous mental image of their destination. By the time they were half way there, Kurogane was dreading the possibility of having to wait out the storm surrounded by walls with more pop art than paint visible and every corner stuffed full of modern sculptures with the mania of someone who collected for the sake of collecting instead of actual art appreciation. Before he could convince himself that there was a five hundred gallon shark tank in the living room decorated with brass mermaids holding up the Fluorite hotel logo, Kurogane glanced into the rear view mirror again.

Fai looked up at the same instant, caught his gaze and smiled.

Besides making Kurogane want to punch himself again the little exchange of eye contact had this effect at least; it reminded him that his first impressions were not always to be trusted, at least when it came to this person. He'd realized that the stranger was a Fluorite and immediately extended every one of his deeply-rooted prejudices against so-called "civilization" to him, but had needed to revise his opinion in fairly short order. It was entirely possible - plausible, even - that the cabin of his nightmares would never materialize and instead he'd find himself in a fairly regular sort of abode, not home but homey enough. He glanced back again at Fai.

Of course, it was also entirely possible that he'd walk into the place and find himself faced with a wall covered entirely in plush animals. He would just have to wait and see.

His patience was rewarded with the reassuring sight of a perfectly normal looking - albeit _huge_ \- log cabin at the end of the drive. Valley Road terminated at Fai's property, spilling out into a large clearing surrounded by evergreens. From high above, the clearing probably looked like a round bottle, with the road forming a long, narrow neck and the cabin sitting snugly at the bottom. Kurogane knew from randomly overheard gossip and the friendly chatter of the staff who maintained the place in the owner's absence that the property ran acres and acres beyond the building. For one reason or another, however, Fai had chosen not to touch the remainder of his land. He built no secondary cabins, did not set up any hunting or fishing sheds, and dug out no artificial tributaries. He hired a small army of groundskeepers to keep the fire hazard risk level at a minimum - they put a goodly dent in Kurogane's supply of beer most months - but otherwise left nature to do her own landscaping.

Kurogane didn't know what Fai did with all that land. He'd never wished to know and the staff that visited his shop were possibly as ignorant as he was of their employer's habits, since their orders were always to clear out the day before the man came to visit his little retreat. He might have been a Fluorite but he had one thing in common with most of his neighbors at least; he desired solitude. Kurogane had never heard of the staff preparing for a large party or even a single guest; they only ever mentioned "Mister Fluorite" and their preparations were always spoken of in terms of a single person's needs, and simple ones at that.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall the housekeepers bemoaning how they had to separate candies by color or make sure the jacuzzi held exactly three thousand jasmine flowers either. They just made sure everything was fully stocked, well-maintained and sparkly clean. Kurogane suddenly found himself curious to see the inside of this sprawling but sane-human-being style building and to see how Fai acted when "at home".

He glanced back to ask whether he ought to pull up around the side of the cabin or what, but he found Fai busily tapping at a smartphone. Before he could do much more than try to catch the blond's attention with a low "oi," Fai looked up expectantly toward the house with one last thumb-tap. Ruddy eyes followed that bright gaze and blinked as lights suddenly flared on, both inside and out. A little carriage lamp over the front door had been lit already, providing a beacon in the darkness, but now the entire front was illuminated to reveal a wrap-around porch. A series of lamp posts off to the side flickered to life as well, delineating a driveway that led to a wide garage.

One dark eyebrow went up, and then its mate followed as the garage door slowly slid up.

"Huh," Kurogane remarked thoughtfully.

"Does Mister Bear not come out of his cave often enough to keep up with modern technology?" Fai teased.

"Why would I need something like that?" Kurogane growled. He could see the sense and convenience of having such a thing, but he had enough time on his hands that he tended to do things the old-fashioned way. He chopped his own wood, popped corn on the stove and only used his phone to make calls. "I've got two arms and two legs and I'm not too lazy to use them."

"It's not laziness," Fai protested. "Look, now we won't have to thaw our little kitty out once we get her inside."

Kurogane couldn't think of any argument against that, so he didn't reply at all, instead moving on to a related topic.

"You have an app for turning on the heat remotely too?" he asked as he edged the car forward toward the garage.

"No need. My housekeeper would have left the heater on. It should be a nice, comfy sixty eight inside."

A few hours earlier, Kurogane would have found all sorts of scornful comments crowding the forefront of his mind. Leaving the heat on when there was no one home seemed like a sinful waste of energy, but with a baby in the back seat - and a new and improved opinion of the cabin's owner - he could appreciate it as a convenience instead of a ridiculous luxury. Two grown men could have easily kept their coats on while waiting for the place to warm up, but their tiny guest would need to be stripped down for her next diaper change and she definitely would not appreciate her little toes getting frostbitten.

The garage looked to be able to hold four cars with comfort even with all the shelves and cabinets and piles of boxes crowding every wall, but only housed one SUV. Kurogane pulled in off to the side a bit but left himself plenty of walking space and hopped out quickly while Fai tapped his phone again to close the garage door behind them. The dark-haired man opened up the back door while the blond squirmed to get his phone back in his pocket, and found himself faced with an impish little smile.

"Aw, country bear has city manners," Fai practically cooed. "Thank you."

"If I had 'city manners' I would have shot you and tossed your body outside," Kurogane retorted, and then further attempted to defend himself from a charge of chivalry. "I'm opening the door for the baby, not you."

"In that case you're on the wrong side of the car."

 _Damn it._ Kurogane scowled and Fai smiled until the door was slammed in his face. When Kurogane opened up the other side of the car the baby was mewing, probably woken up by the loud noise, and Fai was laughing gaily as if he'd been affectionately teased instead of insulted and ignored. Leaving his baggage and the supplies in the car for now, the taller scooped up the infant and trailed after the homeowner as doors were unlocked and more lights flicked on.

The garage connected to a tiled room that seemed to serve as a laundry room, storage area and huge walk-in coat closet combined. Fai did not stop to shed his coat but led the way through a short hallway and into a living area that was so large that it seemed to explode out before them. Kurogane looked this way and that, measuring with his eyes, and realized that nearly half of the ground floor was one open space, broken up only by half-walls, support beams and a few strategically placed load-bearing walls disguised as bookshelves. The massive room was broken up into sections by the half-walls and bookshelves and further differentiated with specific color schemes and purposeful furnishings, but it was all harmonious.

The color scheme was muted and well-suited to the location; oatmeal and cream served as backdrops for deep browns evocative of bark and rich soil, mossy greens and muted grey-blues. There were splashes of brighter hues here and there; a tomato-red cushion, a glass vase in brilliant greens and gold, a knitted blanket in a riot of jewel tones, but they somehow fit naturally into the overall scheme like bright berries on a snow-covered bush.

He didn't see a single garish piece of pop art or needlessly naked statue. In point of fact the only artwork visible were a few texture pieces made of natural materials and a series of large photographs showcasing local landscapes; the lake in summer with its shores carpeted in wildflowers, snowy mountaintops with sunlight shattering on the icy peaks, and a massive panorama set over a large fireplace showcasing a ridge of evergreens backed by misty blue sky.

It was definitely an expensively decorated place, but it was tasteful and unpretentious and Kurogane found himself impressed, surprised, and very much relieved. He also found himself being watched expectantly, and when he caught the homeowner's gaze Fai chirped up.

"My getaway," the blond said, gesturing theatrically and grinning but watching the taller man with keen blue eyes. "What do you think?"

"Not bad," Kurogane understated as he lightly bounced and patted the baby to keep her quiet, and it earned him a light laugh.

"'Not bad'?" Fai asked plaintively. "I think it rates a little better than _that_."

"I'm not here to do an article for Cabins of the Rich and Famous," the taller growled gruffly. "Get your praise from someone else."

"We've never had anyone up here except staff, and they're not very likely to critique the place to their employer's face," Fai replied with a shrug. Ruddy eyes were blinked in surprise and the shopkeeper looked plainly puzzled at the idea of his being the very first guest to set foot in the ridiculously spacious cabin.

"We?" he asked, just to be asking something instead of standing and staring blankly while patting a baby on the butt. While he was now willing to admit that Fai was nothing like what he thought a Fluorite would be like, he still held to the notion that the man loved attention and socializing. The blond had chatted up his cab driver all the way up to Kurogane's shop, attached himself to Kurogane on sight, and even blabbed at the baby. The shopkeeper couldn't quite reconcile these memories with the idea that Fai would have come up here just to sit around in his cabin all by himself.

"My brother and I," the blond answered, pulling Kurogane's thoughts back to the here and now.

"Is he--" he began, but was cut off abruptly by Fai doing a little twirl and announcing the beginning of the grand tour in a bright, cheerful tone. He'd only meant to ask if the brother was as much of a bird-brained blabbermouth as the Fluorite currently in residence, but as he began following and making note of important appliances, he wondered if he'd been misunderstood. He might have seemed as if he were about to ask a personal question that Fai wanted to avoid, for instance. While Kurogane rarely indulged idle curiosity in the personal business of strangers, Fai - who was himself much more inquisitive and chatty - might have thought otherwise.

"...bathroom over there - you don't go in the woods like a _wild_ bear, right? - and the linen closet..."

Fai wasn't as bad as he'd thought, but he was still part of a large and powerful family that generated as much gossip as it did revenue. There were probably more complexities and complexes there than Kurogane wanted to ever have to think about. Even siblings born and raised in a good old-fashioned family with wholesome notions and healthy discipline often had problems getting along; who knew how tangled relationships could get in a family such as the Fluorites. It was possible that Fai and his brother had little more than co-ownership of the cabin in common, and if that was the case, Kurogane could understand the blond not wanting to talk much of his sibling.

"...and down this hall are the guest rooms..."

A poor sibling relationship answered the question of why Fai's brother hadn't come up, but it didn't explain the mystery of his being the first person unrelated to and unaffiliated with the Fluorite empire to set foot in the place. Kurogane was shown three spacious guest rooms all neatly fitted out and told that another hallway on the other side of the cabin had three similar rooms; lack of space was definitely not the issue.

"...whichever one you want, or be like Goldilocks and try each one," Fai said with a laugh. "You look more like Papa Bear though. If--"

"I'll put her in the first room," Kurogane said abruptly, interrupting the non-stop flow of words. "It's closest to the bathroom and kitchen."

"Makes sense," his host agreed affably. "What room do you want?"

"Same one. Best way to make sure I hear her as soon as she wakes up."

Fai puzzled over this a moment, blond head tilted over one shoulder and blue eyes fixed on the other man's face. Apparently he spent the moment visualizing the sleeping arrangements, because his next act was to question them.

"What if you roll over and squish her?" the blond asked, with an anxious crinkle of his brow.

"I won't," Kurogane replied succinctly and probably unsatisfactorily. He didn't feel like explaining how he tended not to move at all while asleep and the fact that he knew from experience that he'd remain at least partly aware of the baby's presence and state even while unconscious. Fai would just have to trust him on this. Either that or volunteer to be the one to sleep with the baby.

To cut off further argument, he leaned in slightly and shifted the baby off of his shoulder, preparing to hand her off.

"Here, you wanted to hold her. Watch her for me while I unload the car." He'd hardly needed to say the words; Fai had magically melted out of his coat and closed what little gap remained between them almost as soon as Kurogane had moved. A bright smile replaced the worried little pout and the shopkeeper almost snorted at the way the blond suddenly looked like a kid being handed a Christmas present.

Fai started up a conversation with the baby as Kurogane made his escape back to the garage. The few words that made it to the taller's man's ears gave him the impression that the infant was going to be given another tour, this one a little less focused on simple necessities and more on the embellishments that were beyond the appreciation of "back woods bears living in caves".

When he returned with the makeshift bassinet and his bag, he found the baby being shown around to various knickknacks, given a bit of background on each, and told not to gum this book or that figurine because it wasn't tasty for babies. When he set down the first couple of boxes on the heavy oak table in the dining room, he heard the baby talking back in little rowls and awrs, with Fai's vocabulary degenerated to baby talk nearly as unintelligible as the actual baby's talking. By the time he had all the supplies out of the car and had shed his own coat and boots, she'd upgraded to fussy little snuffles that were almost drowning out Fai's soft, anxious crooning.

After settling the last box of supplies on the kitchen counter, Kurogane walked over to one of the square pillars bracketing the entrance and leaned against it, just watching for a moment. Fai had the infant cradled against his chest as before, her head near his left shoulder. He was moving constantly, pacing across the wood floor in slow, dancing steps and running a hand soothingly over and down the baby's head and back. That clear voice so often raised unnecessarily loud and cheerful was subdued, alternately murmuring unintelligibly and singing snippets of random songs. That pale face was turned away, but Kurogane saw tension keeping slender shoulders tight and thought the brow was probably creased in worry.

The baby was restless in the hotelier's arms, squirming and looking like she couldn't decide whether she wanted to completely coat both her little fists in drool or chew a hole in the blond's dark blue turtleneck. When her mouth wasn't plugged with a knuckle or mouthful of cotton, grumpy little growls and mini-cries were issuing forth. Kurogane eyed her closely and then slipped back into the kitchen to begin digging through boxes and searching cupboards. The noise he made clattering about at sink and stove eventually drew the homeowner in to the kitchen as well, and Kurogane looked up from the stove to find two clear blue eyes looking at him with something like desperation.

"What am I doing wrong?" Fai asked, sounding almost as upset as the baby.

"Nothing. She's probably just hungry."

"Again?" came the query, and Kurogane nodded while quickly tapping a finger into the water that he had heating up in a pan. Finding it hot enough, he started swishing a bottle of formula around in it, slow and steady.

"Best guess she's about two months; she'll want to eat every three or four hours."

"Just during the day, or...?" The blond's tone was not all too hopeful. Reality seemed to be setting in to the brain underneath that fluff of golden hair and Kurogane found himself throwing a crooked grin over the counter set into the middle of the kitchen.

"Or," the dark-haired man replied decidedly. A plaintive question about sleep schedules - the baby's and subsequently their's - came next, and eventually Kurogane had to lay out a typical day of infant care, hour by hour. Diaper, bottle, burping and naps were slotted in to their proper hours. He could see Fai's eyes glazing over a bit toward the end, so he just hand-waved bathtimes and exercise in and then distracted the newbie nanny with a warmed up bottle.

He shook a few drops onto his wrist - and then had to explain that making sure you didn't burn a baby's mouth with overheated liquid was a good thing - before handing the formula over. Fai absconded to a nearby couch happily with baby and bottle, and Kurogane watched them go. He told himself it was to make sure the baby was settled in properly and didn't bother pointing out to himself that he spent as much time admiring the lines of the babysitter's form as he did making sure that said baby was being held at the proper angle. What made even less sense was the fact that he found the simple look of happiness on Fai's face even more interesting than the graceful way the hotelier folded himself up on the couch, showing off his lean form against the pale material.

Kurogane only managed to pry his eyes away from both the fair-haired persons cuddled up cozily together when one of them looked over at him and smiled.

Escaping back into the kitchen, the dark-haired man got to work. The perishables were tucked away into the refrigerator - big enough for a family of ten and stocked with an arsenal of dairy products and produce worthy of a small cafe - and most of the non-perishables found their way into a walk-in pantry. Kurogane eyed the many cupboards and drawers for a while and then decided that leaving the bottles and such like on the big island in the middle of the kitchen promised the least amount of headache. He didn't quite trust himself to remember which drawer he'd put the cereal spoons in at four in the morning. Or hell, four in the afternoon, especially if the little princess turned out to be colicky or an indifferent sleeper.

One cardboard box remained half-full of bottles and tubes and tubs once the kitchen goods were sorted. The shopkeeper hefted it up and carried it out, passing the couch on his way to the bathroom nearest the baby's room. Fai was on his feet again, infant once more draped against his chest with a lightly fuzzed head peeping over his left shoulder. Instead of dancing her about and chatting, however, the blond was giving the little mite a series of cautious pats. Kurogane veered off-course at seeing this timid attempt to burp the baby and dumped his box onto the cream-colored sofa.

"She's not made of glass," Kurogane commented, coming up behind the other man. Fai had his head craned back and his eyes strained downward, trying to watch the baby's expression. He looked ridiculous and pathetic and it was inexplicably endearing.

"Like this," the shopkeeper added as Fai glanced up at him with quirked eyebrows, and brought up a hand to give the blond a firm double thump on the back to demonstrate. It teased an "oof" and a laugh from the shorter man and then an uncertain protest.

"Really? She's so tiny and...and... _breakable_ ," Fai said plaintively, smiling but with a bit of anxiety in the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"You won't find her so frail-seeming later when she's screaming because air bubbles are giving her a stomachache," Kurogane replied wryly, and then reached around with his left hand to give the baby a few good pats to demonstrate the durability of infants. Fai made no move to take over after the demo, only stood there quietly watching her face intently, as if a baby burp was something rare and wonderful and not to be missed. Kurogane was basically hovering over the shoulder against which the baby lay and with his greater height, he couldn't see much of either of their faces. Fai's was almost entirely out of sight behind a curtain of platinum blond.

If that expressive visage had been turned up to him with a cheeky grin or too-bright laugh and sly comment he would have decamped immediately, but Fai was silent and still and Kurogane found himself settling into the soft, quiet pocket of air he found himself in. It felt like suddenly walking into a warm patch of sunlight on a crisp winter morning and not wanting to move past it into the wind. The baby blinked her hazy blue eyes at some random spot on Fai's bunched-up collar and occasionally yawned, Kurogane kept up the rhythm of pats and rubs he'd started and Fai just stood there, cradling the infant and shifting ever so slightly from one foot to the other.

It was quiet, peaceful, _good_. It felt _good_ to soothe the little girl; to feel her tiny ribcage rise and fall under his hand in those little pauses where he just let his palm rest against her back. When he looked at her he couldn't help but remember another time and place and infant, but he also couldn't help but see the baby before him now, living and breathing and making him want to smile again whenever she scrunched up her eyes just so. She didn't just call up painful memories; she was creating new ones for him as well, and before he knew it Kurogane had stopped what he was doing and was just standing there, hand cradling her head and a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Fai looked up.

It should have felt like a perfect moment shattered, but it was no such thing. The blond looked up and just...looked, and Kurogane's only reaction at first was to glance down at the sudden movement. Fai flicked his bangs out of his eyes with that funny little toss of the head that Kurogane was becoming familiar with, but those blue eyes seemed to be having a lazy moment. They jumped up but missed catching the taller man's gaze, instead falling to look out from under half-closed lids at Kurogane's chin or thereabouts before doing a slow climb up.

Kurogane just watched impassively at first, not moving, not _not_ moving either, but when Fai's gaze met his, the breath caught in his throat and he froze. He froze, not because the sight of that open, speaking-questioning-asking look was so stunning ( _though it was_ ) but because what he found himself so naturally wanting to do was so startling.

"Like that," Kurogane said, breaking the stillness with a voice that sounded rusty like they'd been silent for hours, not just a few minutes. He dropped his hand to give the baby one last demonstrative pat and then stepped back and away, grabbing up the until-then-forgotten box with a grim determination as if his life depended on getting it to the guest bathroom within the next ten seconds. And perhaps it did, because it was _insane_ to want to suddenly kiss someone you'd just met some very stressful hours ago and he wouldn't have blamed Fai for hitting him with a fist and then a lawsuit and bringing his peaceful life crashing down around him if he'd followed through with that dangerous impulse.

It was stupid and crazy and stupid and _stupid_ , because Fai was a stranger and slick city sort and a Fluorite. He probably had a highrise full of models and Playboy bunnies and God knew what else. He wouldn't appreciate a lonely general store owner suddenly interpreting his friendly banter and generosity as invitations to get _friendly_.

And what was really stupid were these thoughts, because even as he stalked away with his box full of excuses Kurogane knew that he was full of it. He'd backslid into deeply ingrained prejudices out of surprise and discomfort, and it was doubly unfair to the blond because Fai wasn't the cheap imitation of a proper human being that Kurogane was describing to himself, nor could he be blamed for deliberately making the shopkeeper uncomfortable. Kurogane had basically stubbed his toe and blamed the table leg for being in the way.

He was falling, and blaming Fai for tripping him.

He dispersed baby shampoo, baby powder and all sorts of other baby things between the bathroom and the guest room that he'd appropriated for her use, and also took a moment to break open one of the boxes of diapers and toss a handful onto the bed next to a tub of wipes. Some towels were nicked from the linen closet as well, one getting laid out on the bed for use as a changing cloth and two more left on the bathroom sink in anticipation of bath time. Unpacking complete, Kurogane looked at himself in the mirror and told his reflection to get a grip.

It wasn't memories that were making him uncomfortable now, but present realities instead. He was trapped in a cabin that suddenly wasn't spacious enough with a little baby and a leggy blond. He could come to terms with the baby wrapping him around her little finger; babies did that. It was a survival mechanism built into them or something. There were some unpleasant realities to be faced involving her eventual fate and how it didn't include him, but what was, was. What he was really grimacing over now was his rapidly improving opinion of Fai. It was good that he'd been able to upgrade the man from "disgusting scum" to "like-able idiot", but he was afraid that if his opinion kept improving at this pace he'd...well, he'd be in trouble by the time the storm blew itself out.

He marshaled arguments against letting these two too far into his life as he turned off the lights in the bedroom and bathroom and walked back toward the kitchen with empty boxes in hand. They were stuck together for now and that was fine; they'd get along well enough and the adults would have the satisfaction of having done a good deed. Fai would have a little adventure, Kurogane would get some unlooked-for therapy and the baby wouldn't die of neglect. Win-win plus win.

When the storm was over, however, most likely so was their interaction. Kurogane needed to get back to his store and his regularly scheduled life. The baby needed to be reunited with her mother and whomever else she was tied to. Fai needed to - or at least probably wanted to - get back to his usual pampered lifestyle of richness and fame. Their lives didn't overlap and they'd probably never see each other again. It wasn't impossible that Fai would stop by the store on his way up to or down from his cabin once in a while, but Kurogane wasn't going to build any plans for the future on the strength of possibly seeing the man for a few minutes a couple of times a year. When the storm was over...it was over.

Having delivered a mini-lecture to himself on the subject, Kurogane approached the others with a more confident tread than that which had carried him away from them a few minutes ago. The serenity he'd bought himself with logic and realism lasted until he was within ten feet of the other two, at which point the infant let out a polite little belch over Fai's shoulder, which made the blond give a delighted little laugh and lean in to press a kiss against her temple.

"Good kitty," Fai cooed, and as he caught sight of Kurogane he threw his guest a bright, triumphant smile while still nuzzling happily at the baby.

The dark-haired man's serenity and steps faltered slightly at the sight, and he cursed silently to himself as he felt his vague unease and discomfort solidify slightly into an old but recognizable ache just slightly to the left of his sternum. And then he cursed aloud as he - literally, this time - stubbed his toe on a table leg.

"Shit! _Ow._ " His voice was loud enough to make the baby startle and look toward him with her face all scrunched up in a prelude to a whine, and Fai hurried over while patting the infant soothingly.

"Bad bear, swearing in front of-- oh!" The teasing tone cut off abruptly as the two men looked down and watched a red dot bloom on the toe of Kurogane's sock. The taller had to stop his aggravated hopping as Fai declared that he would go hunt up a bandaid and handed off the baby despite protests from both his guests. The infant mewled unhappily at the slightly awkward exchange, having very likely been on the verge of dozing off when she'd been startled by Kurogane's collision with the coffee table. The shopkeeper cradled her to his chest but it was done automatically and without much attention as he called out after the disappearing blond.

"I'm _fine_ ," he half-shouted, but Fai was already disappearing up the stairs, and he gave up the notion of another yell when the baby snuffled against him with a displeased little mrawl.

"Don't you start," he growled at her. She seemed to pay his threat no mind but did settle down against his warmth with a yawn as he gingerly lowered himself onto the couch, taking care to keep his bleeding toe turned away from the plush floor covering. Somehow he doubted Fai was the sort to demand monetary compensation for cleaning services, but he felt he'd probably come in for more teasing than he wanted at odd moments if he messed up the carpet. The blond would probably scold him for not being housebroken or declare them soulmates or some such nonsense because they both had a tendency to get other people's floors dirty.

The focus of his thoughts reappeared soon enough, his hands full of first aid supplies. The injured party stared in perplexity, having expected the blond to return with just one little adhesive bandage in his hand and perhaps a wad of toilet paper to wipe up the blood.

"All right, give me your foot," Fai ordered as he threw himself onto the floor by the injured appendage, spilling random containers all about. Leaning back against the couch as he was with a baby cozy against his chest, Kurogane couldn't quite swipe at the man now seated by his feet, but he did manage to kick awkwardly at Fai's chest as pale hands attempted to snag his sock.

"Quit it," he growled, as Fai laughed and easily avoided the kick by swaying quickly back. "Just take her and toss me a bandaid."

"I read that injured wild animals are even more dangerous than healthy ones," Fai replied, which made no sense to Kurogane. He was familiar with this bit of wisdom; he just didn't see what it had to do with his request for a bandaid. The blond made another pounce and this time captured Kurogane's ankle and began peeling the stained sock away.

"Hey!"

"It's just a sock, Kurogrizzly," Fai teased, grinning up at him while worming his fingers between cotton and skin. "Good thing you didn't sit on a pin, hmm?"

Kurogane couldn't think of what to yell at the man for first; the mangling of his name, the manhandling of his limb or the implications he was being assaulted with. ( _Or the feel of cool fingers tickling lightly along the underside of his foot, the way that lilting voice tickled in a like manner just under his sternum, and how hard it was to shake the vision of those slender fingers tugging with teasing insistence at his waistband._ ) He ended up simply glowering at the other man, but all the offended pride and dignity he managed to muster up was wasted as Fai's focus fell to the injured toe.

Kurogane had attempted to walk right through a very solid piece of furniture, and as a result, a goodly chunk of his first toenail was now hanging askew like a roofing shingle torn nearly away by a storm. Fai winced at the blood seeping out of the damaged cuticle as if it was his own, and then began grabbing up this and that from around him.

"The hell are you doing?" Kurogane asked, half complaining, half curious. "I just need a bandaid or a tissue until it stops bleeding."

"You need more than that," came the argument, delivered in a tone clearly at least half distracted by the task at hand. A cotton ball soaked in something rather stinging was being dabbed carefully about. "We need to disinfect and protect. I can't have a big old grouchy bear limping around my cabin with an infected toe when there's a little kitty to keep safe, can I?"

"You could stop it with the bear nicknames and maybe there'd be less grouching," he replied, and a sigh escaped him that revealed how little hope he had of his suggestion being taken. A dark eyebrow quirked up as Fai flashed a quick smile and then pair of nail clippers and began carefully trimming away the broken fragment of toenail. It was unnerving to have a sharp cutting tool and his own tender flesh in the hands of a stranger. Scratch that; it was downright bizarre to be getting a pedicure from a Fluorite. No, even beyond that; it was tearing a hole in the fabric of reality that he of all people was sitting back and letting this moron do this to him. For him. Whatever. He felt like he'd fallen through some rift in space and time and landed in an alternate dimension. Next thing he knew a white rabbit would bound by yelling that they were late for a party.

The amputated sliver of toenail was laid to rest in a square of tissue paper next to the bloodied cotton balls, and then Fai got to work with a cotton swab and a tube of ointment. Kurogane watched his toe get anointed and wondered at the look of simple satisfaction on the blond's face. Messing about with another person's foot was not exactly the shopkeeper's idea of fun, but Fai seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly. It was the same look he had on while wrapped up in feeding or rocking the baby, and while a man's toe had nothing in common with an infant, Kurogane felt suddenly as if he'd caught a glimmer of insight into the blond.

It was - beyond the accident of birth - why the hotelier was a hotelier, perhaps; an innate desire to take care of the needs of others. He looked intent and calm and happy and content, focused almost inward even while attending to another person. He looked good. Not just desirable but _right_ , and Kurogane thought to himself that this was how God had meant this man to look; a soft, secret smile instead of a too-bright laugh, measured and sure movements instead of distracted butterfly-flits here and there, clear blue eyes steady and staring up at him...

_Shit._

He automatically bristled up at this unexpected eye contact, but before he could react with an abrupt and demanding "what" like the times before, Fai crinkled up his face in a big grin and threw his hands out with a flourish.

"Tadaa~"

Kurogane looked down at his toe. And stared. And stared some more, before closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath as evenly as he could.

"You. Are goddamn lucky. I am holding an infant," he finally ground out between gritted teeth.

"Language," chided Fai with teasing disapproval as he scrambled to his feet - probably to escape - while gathering up his supplies. "And those were the only bandages I had in my bathroom."

"Why do you have _sparkly princess bandaids?!_ " Kurogane demanded, and then cursed again under his breath when a thin wail of protest burbled up near his collarbone at his raised tone of voice.

"Sparkly _fairy_ princess bandaids," the blond pointed out as he picked up a stray tube of ointment. He smiled at his patient over one shoulder, soft and sweet and simple again, but a little tight around the corners and Kurogane didn't know why. "And I bought them because they made my brother laugh."

There were just so many things he could have said if Fai hadn't disappeared upstairs with such speed. _I bet you make him laugh, not some bandaids_, was the first thing that came to mind. _I'm not your brother and I'm not laughing so get this stupid pink thing off of me_, was what probably would have come out of his mouth. Somewhere in between was what he should have said, but Kurogane couldn't think of what it could have been.

The only thing that stood out in his mind with any clarity was that he was definitely in trouble.


	5. Nightmare and truth or dare

Darkness.

He woke to darkness and nothing else. No temperature, no air, no gravity, no sense of even having a body with which to sense these things. But that didn't make sense, because if he didn't have a body, then how could he still hear? It was so faint - far away? - that he couldn't even be certain what it was, and so he tried to strain ears that he wasn't even sure he had to catch the noise better. _What was it?_

And then he was _sure_ he had a body, because as the high, thin noise grew louder his heart began thudding faster and faster. His mind couldn't yet remember but his not-quite-there body apparently did, and he waited for revelation with an increasing pulse, wishing he had legs with which to ( _run, hide, go find an even darker place where it was safe to cry_ ) go investigate.

He waited, and the noise grew a little closer, and a little clearer.

He waited, and the noise grew a little louder, and a little more familiar in a nagging, terrifying way.

He waited, and then the noise burst upon him with shocking clarity and he _remembered_.

His heart gave a painful lurch and then raced, straining against the ribcage he theoretically had as if trying to beat its way out by force. The noise wasn't a _what_ , it was a _who_. It was _her_ and she was crying. And with that knowledge came an awareness of two different realities that swarmed over his mind and left no room to question either of them. He was at once reliving his past without knowing that it _was_ past, and aware that he was having the same nightmare that he had almost every time that he slept.

She was crying. She was crying for him to come get her, to come pick her up and soothe her like he always did. No one could make her stop crying as quickly as he could. He was the one who fed her, took care of her, played with her. His were the hands she knew the best, the scent and voice she responded to the quickest, the warmth and presence she craved the most. She was crying but he couldn't seem to find his arms and legs to go to her and so she just kept crying and crying and crying for him--

\--and he fought to get his body back because he knew from experience that if he could just reconnect his brain to his body and feel himself _move_ he would wake up. His heart pounded so hard he thought he might have a heart attack but he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't feel his lungs and try to take deep, even breaths to calm down. He couldn't feel his arms and try to lay a hand on his chest as if he could smash his panicking organ into submission. He couldn't feel any part of his body and so he was powerless to do anything--

\--so she cried and cried and when he didn't come she began to wail and if he'd had lungs and a mouth he would have cursed himself because now she sounded afraid. He'd let her down by not being near her, near enough to touch and soothe and cuddle away her tears. Near enough to at least be there for her so she wasn't alone. Near enough to protect her. Yes, protect her because she wasn't just chilly or hungry or wet, she was--

\--just a nightmare, that was all. Just a nightmare that he had to wake up from. He didn't need to say any magic words or click his heels together; all he needed was to feel one little finger twitch, to hear himself make one strangled groan, and he could wake up. He tried to shut out the darkness and emptiness that filled his mind and concentrated on reconnecting to his elusive physical form. He could feel his heart beating; that wasn't helpful but it was something. There had to be lungs on either side of it and he imagined them filling and deflating...imagined them until he imagined that he could feel them, and then tried to concentrate on them until they became real. He was sleeping and having a nightmare and his lungs had to be there somewhere, and if he could just command them for one second--

\--he would have screamed just to drown out the sound of her shrieks, shrill and painfully clamorous, filling the darkness and surrounding him until he thought he would suffocate in the sound, go mad just to escape. She had cried for him and he hadn't come. She'd wailed and he hadn't been there for her. She was screaming and there was nothing he could do because he'd been asleep--

\--having a nightmare and he couldn't wake up--

_\--ey...hey, wake--_

\--while she shrieked for him--

 _\--you're having_ a bad dream."

\--and he just lay in bed--

"Wake up!"

Kurogane sat up in bed, heart still hammering and ears ringing with high-pitched cries, but he had lungs and arms and legs again and he threw himself out of bed - slammed against something in his haste that yelped and tried to grab at him - with his newly regained body. He staggered out of the room ( _fled from his memories_ ) while blinking blearily and cursing his sleep-clumsy steps, chasing after the sound of a crying baby ( _grumpy and fussy and he could have wept over how normal and safe she sounded_) down the hall and out into the living area.

He found her in the middle of a wide open patch of carpet, little limbs flailing spastically against the side of her doggy-bed bassinet as she demanded attention. Kurogane crashed to his knees abruptly as if he'd suffered a sudden paralysis from the waist down and scooped her up so quickly that she threw her arms out, stiff and startled.

"Shh," he soothed, cradling her to his chest and tucking her head under his chin as he rocked his upper body slightly. "I'm here; I've got you. You're okay. You're okay." Her cries had cut off when he surprised her by appearing so suddenly, and when she found herself cuddled the infant burst into a series of warbles and wet raspberries instead, but Kurogane kept up his low chant as if she still wept.

 _I'm here. I've got you. You're okay._ He was soothing himself, not her.

He wasn't sure how long he knelt there on the floor but it couldn't have been too long. By the time his heart rate and breathing had calmed down and most of the nightmare had been dissipated by the warmth and weight against his chest, the sweat was only half-dried on his skin and his legs just idly threatening to cramp up. He took a couple of deep, steadying breaths and slowly got to his feet, patting the baby mechanically and looking around with dull, tired eyes.

Fai was in the kitchen, watching his guests intently.

There was a baby bottle on the island and the blond had both hands wrapped around it as if he was trying to warm it up with his body heat. The stove behind him was off but steam was rising from a small pot, and Kurogane drew the proper conclusions when Fai began walking over with the formula once eye contact was established. The bottle was waved in the air, the gesture a little awkward and uncertain, just like the hotelier's cautious manner in approaching.

"Not too hot, not too cold," the blond said with a tentative smile. "I can feed her, or if you want coffee or tea, I can..." Blond strands drifted across his face as he tipped his head back at the kitchen in a silent offer.

Kurogane didn't think he could have given up the infant just then no matter the circumstances, and a scalding hot cup of bitter coffee sounded like heaven, so he threw his host a look of pure unadulterated gratitude as he reached for the bottle.

"Coffee. Black." He grimaced a bit at the rusty quality of his voice and the questions he could see swimming in those big blue eyes turned up to him. He turned away before anything of a more serious nature could be asked and walked heavily over to the nearest seat, feeling more tired now than when he'd first gone to bed.

Kurogane lowered himself carefully down onto the cream-colored couch that seemed to be turning into the designated feeding station, moving slowly because the last dredges of his nightmare still clung to him and made him mistrust his coordination. After settling into the plush cushions with a wrinkle of his nose at the way his t-shirt clung damply between his shoulder blades, he shifted his squirmy little bundle down into the crook of one arm and began trying to connect bottle and baby.

Both the blonds he was currently stuck with seemed to be quick to pick up on how things were done; all it took was one little tap of the latex nipple against her bottom lip and the little girl was nosing around with her mouth wide open in classic baby bird style. Kurogane smiled despite himself at the sight, and then he sighed as she latched on and began draining the formula with gusto.

The nightmare was nothing new. He had it more nights than not and it was always the same. The way he'd come out of it tonight had almost shaken him more than the dream itself, and he still had to sort out whether he was disturbed or...something else. He was grateful for being woken, certainly, and found himself to be free of embarrassment as well. Fai wasn't teasingly offering to fetch him a night light or a security blanket, and the curiosity evident in the little glances being sent couch-ward was natural, not malicious.

Having the piercing screams from his nightmares morph into the demanding cries of the little princess in his arms had also been unsettling from its unfamiliarity, but good all in all. Usually he had nothing but the sound of his own labored breathing to try and chase away the lingering echoes. Sometimes he woke to the howling of wolves or wind and it was hardly an improvement. The artificial voices of music and television were always too harsh on his nerves and no help at all, and in the past, letting time pass had been his only remedy. He idly glanced over at a window and blinked in surprise to see, in the faint light from a lamp, that the storm had caught up with them and was lashing furiously at the glass. Now that he thought about it, he could hear the wind screaming about the cabin faintly.

It was pitch black and whited out outside, eerie and lonely and cold, and he hadn't noticed.

It wasn't just that he'd woken up in a stranger's abode; everything about waking up had been different. It couldn't have been much more than fifteen or twenty minutes since he'd woken - _been_ woken - up and instead of staring out a window for an hour with his fists clenched tight or exhausting himself in working or working out, he was calm and relatively relaxed. Instead of waking up to an empty house and realizing all over again what he'd lost, he'd been woken up by the sound of living voices and comforted with warmth.

As if summoned by the thought, Fai drifted over with two glass mugs, one full of black coffee and the other with contents so pale that it looked like it had more cream in it than coffee. His host hesitated by the couch, eyeing Kurogane propped up in one corner with his hands full of baby. Fai hummed contemplatively before putting both mugs down on a glass-topped coffee table and throwing himself smack in the middle of the couch with a happy sigh. The shopkeeper frowned as the other man curled up on the sofa, one knee resting cozily on top of his.

"You know, there's plenty of couch behind you," the dark-haired man pointed out, but before he could continue Fai held out his arms as if requesting a hug. Kurogane paused and cocked an eyebrow. _What?_

"Yes, but if I respected your unnecessarily large bubble you wouldn't be able to pass her off to me so that you could drink your coffee," Fai replied airily.

_Oh._

Just then the baby finished off the last of the formula, setting up a series of hollow smacks as she began sucking air instead, and Kurogane wiggled the bottle away from her. She didn't seem to think much of this and immediately launched into tiny little mraws, flapping her little hands around aimlessly as if hoping to come upon sustenance again. Kurogane hefted her up and watched her try to gum everything that neared her mouth, from her own fingers to the tip of Fai's nose as she was transferred and then nuzzled. The hotelier laughed and then looked questioningly at his companion as he settled the baby against his shoulder and began patting her back as naturally as if he'd been babysitting for years.

"Is she still hungry? Should I heat up another bottle?"

Kurogane shook his head, leaning back almost reluctantly after letting the little girl go. He missed her warmth already, and reached for a mug to keep himself from crossing his arms as if he was chilled in the comfortably heated cabin.

"I'll try her on some cereal before I go to bed; if she's old enough for it it'll fill her up and hopefully she'll sleep at least four or five hours." Kurogane looked around the living area for a clock as he realized that he didn't know how long he'd been out. There wasn't really any need to keep to his usual schedule just now, but he didn't want to get his internal clock completely flipped. There would be a lot of work to do when the storm was over and he was back at his shop. ( _Alone._ ) "What time is it, anyway?"

"Almost nine," Fai answered. "You weren't hibernating for very long."

The statement hung in the air between them but neither picked up the thread of the conversation to tug on it and maybe unravel the peaceful atmosphere. Kurogane quite simply didn't want to talk about it and on Fai's side, politeness or hesitation seemed to outweigh curiosity. They settled into silence, one concentrating on his coffee and the other fishing for a belch. It probably should have been awkward but Kurogane found himself relaxing more into the plush sofa as the minutes ticked by. The coffee was good, the couch was comfortable, and it was strangely soothing to have the other two right there next to him, close but not obtrusive, sharing their presence with him but wrapped up in each other.

He was reluctant to break up the little lounge-fest but didn't want to just doze off again either, so as soon as Fai succeeded in jiggling a couple of air bubbles out of the baby, Kurogane announced that it was exercise time for the little princess.

"But we just gave her a bath," Fai said, completely serious, and the shopkeeper almost snorted into the last of his fragrant beverage. After her last bottle, the little girl had been very thoroughly bathed, dried and powdered by Kurogane while Fai'd trotted off to whip up a quick meal for the adults. The shopkeeper had taken the opportunity to examine her again, checking for less critical things this time such as bruises and scratches and scars before diapering her up. She'd turned out to be just as healthy and whole as she seemed, and this combined with her pleasant chubbiness reassured the men that whatever her story was, it probably didn't involve being rescued from an abusive environment.

Kurogane had been forced to field some curious queries about the tiny pansy-print footed pajamas he'd magically produced from his knapsack to change the infant into, and he smacked them all away with a curt one-two of "they're just some old baby clothes" and "none of your business". He'd prowled around the cabin a bit with the infant after that, pointedly keeping to windows and bookshelves as far away as possible from the blond, but Fai had lured his grumbly guest in close again by baiting his dining room table with a fragrant meal of herb-crusted chicken and pasta smothered in what looked like wild mushroom gravy.

Some back-cracking and one yawn from the taller after the meal - he'd had seconds and idly picked his way through a third helping of what looked like albino green beans while watching Fai and the baby make faces at each other - had been enough to make his host start fussing over _him_ instead of the baby, and Kurogane had soon been persuaded into admitting that a quick nap might not be a bad idea. He'd had little sleep the night before and had given his adrenal gland a pretty good working out that day, after all. The quick nap had turned out to be a very bad idea, sadly, and now he was in no mood to call it a day and turn in early.

"We're not going to make her break a sweat doing push-ups," he responded, attempting scathing sarcasm and only managing to sound wryly amused. "It's basically play time, except she's not old enough to really do anything."

The little girl was plucked away from Fai, which she was okay with, and then laid down on her tummy on the carpet, which she was not quite so okay with. Kurogane sat down on the floor as well and gave her a little pat on the back.

"You're fine," he reassured her, but she disagreed, arching her back to get her face away from the fibers and mewing discontentedly. Fai paused in the middle of reaching for his neglected cup of coffee on the table, watching her punch and kick at the air with a frown crinkling his forehead.

"This is your idea of letting her play?" the hotelier asked dubiously.

" _ahm aww_ ," the baby agreed.

"Exercise," Kurogane clarified. "Crying works their lungs out and this is just a step toward learning to do things like roll over and crawl." He gestured to the way she kept lifting her head up and flailing her limbs about, but Fai looked more worried than convinced. Deferring to the other man's greater experience for now, the blond let the baby be and settled down cross-legged on the floor, sipping his drink and flinching whenever the infant let her head flop back down onto the floor as if he was afraid she'd break her nose on his ridiculously plushy carpet.

The baby did all right for about two minutes, and then she began doing a steady climb up the register. Little mewls turned into firm rawrs and then began ratcheting up into outright cries.

"Now she sounds _mad_. This isn't exercise; this is torture," Fai said in consternation, and Kurogane stretched out alongside the infant to try and distract her a bit. Exercise time was supposed to last for quite a bit for best results. He ended up with his own face on the carpet as he tried to catch her eye, much to the blond's obvious amusement, but to no avail. She refused to be appeased, and when fat tears began to gather in her lashes Kurogane caved in.

"All right, fine," he grumbled, grabbing her under the armpits and then hauling her onto his chest as he rolled onto his back. "There. Happy?"

She was still on her stomach but a cotton-covered torso seemed like a far more acceptable exercise surface than an expensive carpet, and soon enough the strident cries had calmed down into intermittent mews. She kicked happily, grabbed at Kurogane's t-shirt, and looked around with wobbly bobbly jerks of her head.

"Much better," Fai said decisively, sounding happier as well. He set his mug back on the table next to Kurogane's empty one and then scooted close so that he could run his hand lightly over the baby's head and back. She enjoyed the caresses and made it apparent, burbling and kicking happily. Her living yoga mat was made slightly uncomfortable by the blond's cozy closeness and the effect it had on him, but he covered it up with some grumbles about a high maintenance pain in the ass and left it up to his audience to decide who he was actually talking about.

"How long does a baby workout usually last?" the blond smilingly inquired, tipping his head and peering at Kurogane from behind a thin curtain of bangs.

"Dunno, maybe twenty minutes." Kurogane shrugged as best he could while lying flat on his back and manfully attempted to keep his eyes on the baby. He'd already acknowledged himself in danger; no need to go looking for more.

"Want to play something while she's busy exercising?"

"What?" he asked rather blankly. His tone implied more confusion as to what the blond was going on about rather than a simple inquiry of what, exactly, Fai wanted to play.

"You know, a game."

Ruddy eyes stared up, lacking the luster of enlightenment.

"What, like Monopoly? How am I supposed to play anything lying on the floor?" As soon as the words left his mouth the shopkeeper realized how simple it would be for the blond to turn the innocent - albeit somewhat belligerently voiced - question into something twisted. If the words "tonsil hockey" came out of Fai's mouth, Kurogane was going to have to make a fast, hard decision about who to deck; himself for being tempted or Fai for...some reason.

"We actually do have board games," Fai laughed, "but I was thinking more like twenty questions or truth or dare."

"Truth or...what are you, twelve?"

"Not quite, but we _are_ having a sleepover," the blond countered. "Come on, don't be such a stuffy old bear. It'll be fun."

"Cut it out with the bear crap, and fun compared to _what_?" Kurogane asked, unable to think of anything himself. The bright little smile on Fai's face developed a little twist, going from encouraging to just slightly challenging.

"Compared tooo...listening to me sing 'Ninety Nine Haunches of Deer on the Wall' the whole way through?"

The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes and glared, but his ungainly sprawl seemed to be undermining his authority and presence, because Fai just continued smiling down at him. The blond looked serene and smug, and it made Kurogane want to refuse all the more, but the thought that Fai was dead serious about the singing stopped him. He could probably tie the guy up and stuff him in a closet for a while, but eventually his host would need to be freed and he could imagine that there would be some absolutely _epic_ sulking and whining to have to deal with.

"Fine," he capitulated. "Truth or dare, then." Maybe he could dare Fai to ditch the bear nicknames for twenty four hours. It also occurred to him that a kids' game had the advantage of creating more of a casual atmosphere than a dangerous mood, and he was still in a defensive frame of mind.

Contrary to expectations, the blond hovering above him did not immediately burst into triumphant cheers, but continued to gaze calmly down. If anything the man grew a little more serious, a little more thoughtful. Kurogane thought of the two games that had been suggested - word games that could be played lying down, yes, but both involving answering questions - and grew suddenly suspicious.

"So, truth or dare?" Fai asked, eyes and smile both wider now, looking eager to begin. There was still a hint of something off in his overall body language, though. Kurogane couldn't quite put a finger on it but there was something that made him think there was a hint of nervousness as well as anticipation, as if Fai was keen to play but also not quite certain the game was going to go his way. It wasn't exactly a win-lose sort of game, and Kurogane tensed up a bit in reaction to the impressions he was getting as he replied.

"Truth."

Fai hesitated, which only keyed the other man up another notch, and then asked his question.

"Why did you say that you couldn't turn the car around with her still inside?"

It was ridiculous to be so tense when one was flat on their back on soft carpet with a baby drooling on one's chest, but Kurogane managed it.

"Dare," he growled, and Fai pouted at him.

"Fine. I dare you to wet yourself down in the shower, dump a five pound sack of flour out on yourself, and then let me take a picture of you sitting outside, drinking out of a glass bottle of Coke."

"WHAT?!"

" _ah?!_ " yiped the baby, startled by the sudden increase of noise.

"A Coca Cola polar bear in Colorado," Fai continued cheerily, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Kurogane was hauling himself up into a sitting position while cradling the startled baby close with one hand. "I'll hang it in my bedroom and it'll be Christmas all year long."

After mentally stumbling over the idea of Fai hanging a picture of him up in his bedroom, the proposed model gathered up his wits again and snarled a decided negative.

"I am _not_ doing that."

"You're defaulting back to truth, then?"

"I'm going to default right back to my place if you keep this up."

"No, you won't." The calm, confident manner in which Fai said it splashed a little cold water on Kurogane's temper, and he frowned and bought himself a few seconds by busying himself in repositioning the little girl. Seating himself cross-legged on the carpet, the shopkeeper draped her along his forearm as if she were a football while staring at Fai as if the man had grown fangs and claws.

"You won't," Fai insisted. "You're responsible and kind--"

"And you are creepy as hell," Kurogane interrupted, practically breaking out in gooseflesh at the unexpected praise.

"--and you wouldn't leave our poor defenseless little kitty here with infant-challenged me or expose her to the dangers of a drive back to your place in the middle of a snowstorm."

There was really no rebuttal he could make to those statements, since they were absolutely true. He'd deny kindness but prided himself on being a responsible adult, and he couldn't think of anything that could make him abandon or endanger the infant currently cooing happily in his lap. Of course, this didn't mean he was about to make a biscuit out of himself for Fai's entertainment. Kurogane glared, glared some more, and then sighed. _Fine._

"I lost family in a car accident on that road," he replied succinctly, leaving out every painful detail he could. He had to answer; it didn't mean he had to expose himself, bare-throated and belly up. Blond eyebrows knit together in a frown, but not out of frustration at the probably unsatisfying answer. Instead Fai looked honestly concerned and maybe pitying, and Kurogane interrupted the rather natural question almost before it was out of the hotelier's mouth.

"Was it--"

"Truth or dare?" Kurogane asked abruptly, and Fai blinked and then leaned back with a soft, "oh" of recollection.

"Truth," the blond answered, and then suddenly Kurogane realized that he had no idea what to ask. Not wanting to leave too long of a pause that Fai might take advantage of, he opened his mouth.

"Why isn't your brother here, too?" he questioned, and then internally cursed his brain for producing _that_ on the spur of the moment. He could only theorize that the question that had been posed to him had put his mind in a serious, close-to-home track.

Next to him, Fai's expression closed off and became guarded, almost blank. It made a needle of guilt or regret stab at Kurogane, but he shrugged it off. The hotelier could hardly complain about invasion of private space; he'd been the one to invade that territory first. Tit for tat. He got ready with a dare to give up bear nicknames, but Fai did not opt out.

"He doesn't like snow," came the casual sounding reply, along with a little shrug. "Truth or dare?"

"What, that's it? 'Doesn't like snow' but he owns this place with you? That's a crap answer." He hadn't actually meant to pry, but now that the question was out there Kurogane found himself miffed that he'd only gotten enough of an answer to make him even more curious.

"Au contrair, monsieur bear," Fai said in a sing-song voice. "It's as good an answer as you gave me."

"Fine, ask me another one," Kurogane groused, willing to give away a bit more detail in order to get the same from his companion. He had to endure another thoughtful look that he couldn't quite interpret, almost growing impatient to get on with the not-quite-a-game before the other man spoke again.

"What's your favorite color?" Fai asked, leaning in a bit with a cheeky sort of smile.

 _Bastard,_ the dark-haired man thought, and his stubborn competitive streak rose up to do battle. If the bird-brain thought he'd get away with a one-word answer in the next round he was in for a surprise.

"Blue," Kurogane replied, and then went on to explain further. "Not really any one particular blue though. When I think of it, it's a lot of different colors. I've always wanted to see the ocean but haven't had an opportunity; 've just seen it in movies and television and photographs. I grew up here and I'm used to mountains and open sky but the ocean just seems like it would be a whole different sort of...I don't know, _big_ and eternal. It's that blue that's my favorite; that picture in my head of what the ocean looks like...always changing but always blue." He paused a moment and then asked his question, dispensing with the "truth or dare" prompt.

"So why doesn't your brother like snow?"

"...the grizzly bear is a highly intelligent animal, and not to be taken lightly," Fai intoned in what Kurogane could only assume was meant to be an English accent, mostly mirthless but not exactly offended or angry either. Blue ( _changeable, stormy, ocean_) eyes broke away and came to rest on a random patch of carpet as the answer unfolded, and Kurogane listened with his sense of triumph fading away and being replaced by something else.

"We were taken on vacations every winter; different places but always snow. The adults would go drinking or gambling or something and the kids would play in the snow and live on cookies and cocoa. My brother and I liked to sneak off together, not just away from the nannies but the cousins, too. We weren't...we didn't get along with anyone, really. Just each other. So one day we wandered off on some random trail and found this little shack. I guess it was one of those hunting shelters? Anyway, I got locked in and my brother got locked out. I was too short to unbolt the door or climb back up to the window I'd tumbled in through..."

The narration broke off and Fai curled his knees up suddenly, hunching over them as if the chill from his memories had settled over him again, and Kurogane had a vision of a little boy alone in the dark, sitting with his back against a wall, bewildered because he was suddenly trapped and separated from the one person he loved well in the world. It made him want to grab the blond, drag him in close and tell him with warmth and breath and a firm embrace that he understood what it was to be haunted.

"Yuui had to walk back alone through the woods to get help. It started snowing and he must have gone off the trail because he remembers just... _wading_ through snow and having to climb up out of a ravine at one point. He made it back eventually and brought one of the nannies back to get me out. He got really sick after that - no wonder, getting half frozen and exhausting himself while I was just sitting cozy and bored - and he hasn't voluntarily set foot in snow ever since."

Fai chewed on his lower lip for a moment and then tried to shake the memories off, tipping his head and setting it back down on his knees to smile crookedly up at his guest. There was no answering smile or any attempt to comfort or console; Kurogane frowned instead, feeling uneasy with almost every detail that had stood out. Children being neglected under the guise of being spoiled, a little boy walking for hours and finally reaching home base on his own instead of being found because they hadn't been _looked for_ , the way the blond had described fretting away in a dank old shed as "sitting cozy and bored", and most of all Fai voluntarily coming up here every winter to sit alone in a cabin, apart from a brother that Kurogane could tell he loved just from the way he said his name.

Fai didn't come here for the peace and privacy. He was either coming here to defiantly face down old memories, or do penance.

"So...truth or dare?" Fai asked, and it took Kurogane a moment to remember that they were playing something instead of just prying into each other's deepest darkests for the not-fun of it. He chose truth again, and the blond's expression reverted to that hesitant curiosity.

"Was it your wife and daughter that you lost in the accident?"

Kurogane, twenty-four years old and just one barely remembered hook-up removed from having to admit he was a virgin, blinked and looked purely puzzled for a moment. _His who and what?_

"Where'd you get--" he began, and then cut himself off abruptly. "You were in my room," he suddenly recalled, and Fai squirmed a bit and then nodded, silently confirming the conclusion Kurogane had jumped to about the conclusion Fai had jumped to.

Kurogane's bedroom was hardly less spartan than his store. There was a bed, a desk, a dresser, a television and a couch from which to watch it on. And that was about it. There were some boxes of paperwork stacked in a corner and a couple of light fixtures, but the only decorative items were two pictures; one postcard leaning against the desk lamp of some random white-sand beach, and a framed photograph on the dresser. Three people smiled out from the simple silver frame. In the very center of the picture was an infant dressed in an almost ridiculous amount of white lace and violet ribbons. A slender young woman with long black hair, pale skin and a madonna smile was holding her up for the camera's benefit. And hovering over them both was a tall, tanned man with spiky black hair and warm brown eyes, smiling at the photographer with his face suffused with love and pride and pure simple satisfaction in life.

It was a bit of a far shot, taken with a cheap camera and printed only three by five, but Kurogane was still a little surprised at Fai's mistake.

"The picture on my dresser?" he asked, and waited until Fai nodded. "That's not me. That's my father."

"Oh," was Fai's only reply for a moment, wide-eyed with surprise. And then the next comment was not a remark on how Kurogane was the spitting image of his sire, nor even a request for confirmation that the others in the photograph were Kurogane's mother and sister.

"You took the picture?"

"Yeah," Kurogane confirmed, after his own brief pause of surprise. He then thought back to Fai's original query, and out of some strange appreciation for the lack of stupid comments and questions, decided to answer it. The man had talked him down from a bad spot on the road and rescued him from a nightmare; he was practically holding all the clues already and only needed Kurogane to fill in a few details.

"They're the family I lost; my parents and my little sister," he explained, and dropped his eyes to the infant in his lap. It had been years since any of his customers had mentioned the tragedy, and this was the first time he'd ever spoken of it voluntarily. It was easier to look into hazy blue eyes than clear ones when touching on these old scars, and easier to speak of the child he missed while rubbing the belly of the one he'd been saddled ( _gifted_ ) with temporarily.

"My mother had this thing with her lungs. She really shouldn't have had another baby but it was part of their dream and her doctor said the disease could be managed with meds. She got worse after the delivery though and it seemed like my parents spent more time going to and from doctor's appointments than they did at home. One time my little sister was due for some shots, so they were all driving down into the city for a round of appointments. They went off the road, and...that was that. The police aren't sure exactly what happened; my father was a good driver though, so I figure another car swerved into their lane and then just took off afterwards. Maybe didn't even realize they'd caused an accident. Had to be something like that."

Had to be, because Kurogane couldn't believe that it was just pure dumb luck or a chain of unlucky coincidences that had brought his world to an end. It was easier to think that out there somewhere was a person on whom the blame rested, even if he never figured out exactly who or where they were.

He stared down at the baby who was staring right back at him, calm and cooing. He thought of how her noisy cries had chased away the thin screams from his nightmare, and of the faint voice intruding on it even before he heard her crying, telling him to wake up. He'd answered Fai's question about the victims of the car accident he'd alluded to but that wasn't the whole story, and now that he'd begun talking it seemed easier to just keep going. The door had been opened and a stranger invited in...might as well let him peek in the closets, too.

"I was at home when they died. Napping," Kurogane continued, his free hand falling away from the baby's stomach and clenching into a fist on the floor. He'd come to terms with the fact that his family was gone but somehow the fact that he'd been contentedly unconscious while they'd died had never stopped rankling. It was just _wrong_ , somehow, that the best man and woman in the world and the sweetest little baby in all creation had been killed and he hadn't even twitched.

The sun should have gone out. The mountains should have crumbled. He should have woken up screaming and knowing something was wrong. Instead, he'd slept soundly and woken up refreshed, and didn't even think anything of it when the phone began ringing half an hour later.

"It was pretty much the last decent sleep I ever got. An officer told me they all died almost instantly but I hear her - my sister, I mean - crying in my sleep as if...as if it took a long time." ( _Screaming, shrieking, dying while he slept._ ) Kurogane forced himself to look up again, to meet those big blue eyes now filled with horrified compassion.

"I'm sorry," Fai blurted, his voice not much more than a whisper. A word of gratitude for waking him up during yet another nightmare died in Kurogane's throat as he suffered mental whiplash, unable to follow the turn of the conversation quickly enough.

"What?" he asked, just as perplexed as before, when Fai had seemed to be apologizing for causing a rockslide. The shopkeeper found himself struggling for equilibrium - not even sure if he wanted to cry over his past or laugh at his present - as the somber, serious mood cracked and hatched a strange, silly, comfortable sort of confusion. He couldn't keep up with this mercurial moron, wasn't even sure he wanted to be able to, and for some god-forsaken reason, enjoyed the struggle.

"For asking," Fai explained, shaking his head and looking much more wounded than Kurogane could have ever expected. "I'm sorry for making you remember, and for--"

"I never _forgot_ ," Kurogane interrupted, a flare of anger making his voice rough enough to startle the other man into silence.

"I didn't need you to remind me," he snapped, leaning forward slightly and almost snarling out his next question. "What, are you the one who drove them off the road?"

"No! _No,_ God no." The blond looked absolutely traumatized by the idea and actually straightened up and leaned back, as if fearful that he was about to be accused, damned and executed right in his own living room.

"Then there's no reason to apologize," Kurogane huffed, all the ire and aggression in his tone and tense posture suddenly melting away. It had occurred to him in the instant the question left his mouth that it wasn't impossible, actually, that by some hellish coincidence, he was actually in the same room with the man who'd caused his family to be wiped out. But he hadn't really believed it. He hadn't asked because he'd wanted to be sure; he'd asked because he'd wanted to smack a little bit of stupid out of that fluffy blond head.

"Truth or dare," he demanded, thinking suddenly of a question he wanted to ask.

"Maybe we should stop playing," Fai suggested, laughing a bit. "It hasn't exactly been a relaxing game."

"You went first, so I get to go last," Kurogane retorted, and then repeated the prompt. As soon as his companion gave in and chose the first option, the dark-haired man asked evenly, "Any reason you always blame yourself for everything?"

It wasn't quite a stab in the dark, but it was still only a loose jumble of a few hours' interaction held together with gut feeling. The way Fai froze up and frowned momentarily, however, told Kurogane that he'd scored a hit. It was barely a second later that slender shoulders shrugged and relaxed, accompanied by a breathy laugh and a grin.

"Some people have these things called manners, grumpy bear. It's polite to say things like 'please' and 'thank you' _and 'I'm sorry'_ , even when it might not be absolutely necessary to do so." Fai's manner was a little too perfectly relaxed and amiable, with just the right amount of friendly teasing to put his hackles up, and Kurogane's eyes narrowed as he growled a reply.

"And _some_ people'd prefer a little more plain honesty and a lot less shallow politeness." And while Fai just laughed at him, Kurogane added as an afterthought, "...and no bear nicknames at all."

The unintentionally humorous quip lightened the mood, and the game continued in along simpler lines after that, the both of them forgetting for the moment that they'd been about to call it quits. The dark-haired man recalled it a bit too late as he blinked and just stared after Fai casually tossed off the query of,

"Men, women or both?"

"The hell kind of question is that?!" Kurogane's voice exploded up from the floor that he'd lain down upon again, and he had to quickly steady the poor startled mite once more draped across his chest as she arched back and almost rolled right off of him.

"Dare, then?" Fai asked, and made a show of pondering a suitable act, placing one finger on pouted-out lips with a contemplative hum. The game had thus far proceeded on truths alone, the two men trading simple questions about fond memories and favorite places, because Kurogane hadn't really been able think of anything dare-worthy and Fai's proposals had always been utterly unacceptable. After being challenged to make a ninja mask out of a black t-shirt and fight a stuffed bunny while armed with a silver letter opener, learn and then perform something called "the horse dance", and eat a gallon of chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup and chocolate chips - and each challenge ending with "while I record it on my phone" - the taller just answered every question asked as if "dare" was not even an option.

Until the question of his sexuality came up.

It wasn't that he was afraid or embarrassed to answer; his reaction had mostly been due to his notions of what was and was not okay to ask someone and the fact that he'd been taken utterly by surprise. Besides being extremely personal, it was also a question he'd never had to really answer before; not even to himself. His brief and disastrous adventure in the city was filed away in his memory as a mistake of his suddenly empty and rage-filled youth, none of it - bar-hopping, club-jumping, pot-smoking and impulse sex with the first stranger to invite him - ever to be repeated.

None of it had helped anyway.

He'd had inklings in between all the growing pains and awkwardnesses of youth that he wasn't going to end up with a traditional family like the one he'd been born into, and the fact that the random he'd been deflowered by in the storage closet of a downtown club had been a guy was a clue too big to ignore. If he wasn't gay, he was at least bi-sexual, but knowing it and admitting it out loud to someone he'd just met _today_ were two very, very different things.

"Oh, I know," Fai chirped with a self-satisfied clapping of his hands, and Kurogane sat up with a sigh - partly of relief that he had a simple way to avoid the question - while cradling the burbling baby to his chest and girding himself for something truly appalling.

"I dare you to kiss me."

There were various options available to Kurogane, and many of them so simple, so easy to put into action. The first that came to mind was to hold the baby very carefully against his chest with one hand, and with the other, punch Fai clear across the cabin. The second that followed almost immediately upon the tail of the first also involved carefully cradling the baby, but ended with Fai crushed against him instead of on the other side of the room, with kiss-bruised lips instead of bloodied ones.

Torn between two ideas, one terrible and one terrific and he wasn't sure which was which, Kurogane just sputtered, searching for something to say. He snapped his mouth shut when Fai leaned forward, fingers splayed out and sinking into the thick carpet, head tipped in what was either inquiry or invitation. The blond seemed determined to get an answer one way or another and it seemed like Kurogane had about three seconds to decide how to respond before having his lips stolen, and once _that_ happened, all bets were very likely off.

Half-sprawled on the floor with an infant glommed onto his torso, the shopkeeper didn't have too many options in the way of escape or even delay. He managed to lean back a bit and that was about it, but it proved to be enough as Fai stopped crowding him just as the distance between them shrank down to about eight inches. Close enough that he had to cut his eyes back and forth between those bright blue ones, far enough that he didn't have to go cross-eyed to look into them. Close enough to feel the little huff of laughter that escaped the blond, far enough...actually not far enough for anything, really.

"Bear caught in headlights," Fai quipped, the smile fading a bit. "I'm not going to...I mean, if it's 'women' then just say so."

"It's not," Kurogane blurted, feeling unaccountably clumsy and uncertain. How the _hell_ had he gotten himself into this awkward situation? Wait, he hadn't. Fai had.

A short pause and a soft "oh" was all that Kurogane got, and then the blond was leaning away, taking away a warmth that he hadn't realized was there until it was withdrawn. The sense that they'd been about to sink into some stupid misunderstanding had kicked him into confessing, but instead of renewing, the smile only fixed itself in its dimmed state. Though he wasn't ready to make any claims or commitments, he'd been fairly certain he'd given the right answer. ( _Right for what? This wasn't going anywhere, was it?_) So why did he feel like he'd just done something exactly wrong?

He tried to think but Fai was already stretching and suggesting that they actually call it quits for real this time and so he growled out the first dilatory tactic he could think of.

"I still have a turn left." He got a curious hum and uplifting of fair eyebrows, and then the other man seemed to recall his companion's grumpy insistence that since Fai had begun the game, Kurogane should get to be the one to end it. With a teasing quip about the stubborn nature of grizzlies, the hotelier gave in with a shrug and opted for truth.

"What the hell just happened?" Kurogane demanded, partly belligerent, partly befuddled.

Fai immediately laughed and replied, "nothing" in a sing-song manner, which told the dark-haired man that something _had_ happened, else the hotelier would have been puzzled as to what, exactly, he was being asked. Before he could repeat himself and insist on getting answers, Fai unfolded himself from the floor, collected the coffee mugs and fled to the kitchen.

Never turn and run away from a bear.

Without examining his motivations too closely, Kurogane steadied the baby with his hands and then carefully got his legs under him to give chase. Fai still had his back turned, calling out questions about making more coffee and detailing the possibilities of late night snacks without pausing for any answer, and didn't notice that he was being pursued. The baby gave them away with a sudden raspberry blown around one drool-coated fist, and Fai turned quickly as Kurogane entered the kitchen.

"Answer me," the dark-haired man ordered. They were on opposite sides of the island, Fai at the sink and Kurogane near the passageway, and the taller suddenly felt as if the bear-nicknames were apt. He felt like he was stalking prey and had just cornered it, and Fai looked ready to bolt.

It was a quick, fleeting impression that didn't even last one second. The blond's expression bloomed back into a smile, rueful and resigned, and Fai shook his head.

"What am I going to do with you?" the hotelier asked. "You really are a stubborn old bear, digging and digging for one little grub and not even caring that you're tearing apart a perfectly nice tree to do it."

"Stop talking and start making sense," Kurogane said, trying to growl but sounding rather plaintive underneath. He leaned against a column and lifted the baby away from him to re-settle her a bit more comfortably. There was a rather pouty, put-upon sigh from hotelier, but then even that little sheen of drama fell away, leaving Fai looking...normal. Cheerful and casual and slightly chiding, and Kurogane felt irritable all over again because he couldn't tell if the brief petulance had been only what it had seemed, or a diversion while Fai put on what could be a well-worn facade of airy, unthinking cheer.

"Well, you didn't want to answer the question, but when I gave you the option of giving me one little kiss instead, you went ahead and answered it. So even if you're interested in men, you're obviously not interested in _me_. It's no big deal," Fai rushed to say in a startlingly convincing carefree manner, before giving a reassuring sort of smile. "Don't worry, I'm not the sulky type. You'll still be able to pencil this into your memories as an adventure in babysitting instead of a nightmare of awkward silences."

"I don't hand out kisses like business cards. They should mean something, not be part of some _game_ ," Kurogane retorted, frustrated that despite his best efforts - that he was putting forth for some unknown reason - Fai should still be misunderstanding him. It seemed simplest and even logical to do as his host said and not worry about it; let it go and get through the storm as best they could. Allowing the blond to continue under his current misapprehension would cut out any further flirting and possibly make him ease up on the teasing as well. But Kurogane was who he was, and lies never sat well with him.

Neither did the vague suspicion that what Fai was after was just another little "adventure".

"And another thing; I'm not ending up penciled into _your_ memories as some Rocky Mountain random. I don't do lukewarm, bullshit, disposable relationships. I _am_ interested, but I'm not going to start something with you when I know it has to end in a few days."

He had all the satisfaction he expected in seeing the blond's smooth smiles crumble away, replaced by surprise and quickly succeeded by something like embarrassment. There wasn't much else for him to be happy about. He'd cleared up the misunderstanding but left nowhere for them to go. His own words left a bitter taste in his mouth and curled his lip, and before either of them could speak again and possibly make things even worse, Kurogane turned and stalked away.


	6. Kurogane talks about his parents

Contrary to Fai's prediction, a rather awkward silence descended after the decidedly un-relaxing game of Truth or Dare. While Fai remained in the kitchen to finish cleaning up, Kurogane grumped off to a far corner of the cabin, eventually settling into a window seat to watch the storm lash at the windows. And perhaps sulk a bit at life's perverseness.

Despite being double-paned and well insulated, cold of course seeped through the glass to chill the pleasantly warm air within, and while it wasn't enough to make Kurogane shiver he took the precaution of dragging a fluffy blanket off of an easy chair in passing. The infant reclined cozily in his lap, leaning back against his stomach, and he tucked the fluffy fabric in all around her to insulate her against the cold. She took little interest in her surroundings, seemingly content to just sit and attempt to suck on her thumb. Her chubby hands occasionally made it near her mouth, but a bit of drooling and gnawing was about all she managed since she kept her fingers tightly fisted.

Kurogane, on his part, spent some time just staring out the window. He had an innate appreciation for nature's beauties, even the wild and dangerous ones, and found almost as much to occupy his eyes in the snowstorm as some people did in a television program. Tanned hands cradled the baby and sometimes gave her a pat or let her latch on to a finger and gum it with fierce concentration. While his eyes and hands somewhat absently occupied themselves, his mind wandered away, sneaking off somewhere behind him. Where Fai was.

The baby was teasing smiles and fondness from him, and that was only to be expected. But Fai seemed to have just as natural a knack for riling him up and ruffling his feathers and raising his hackles and just making him _react_. So much for ignoring the man and getting through the next few days as calmly and quietly as he could. Kurogane had done exactly the opposite; drawn near and reached out, tangled his thoughts up in the blond and gotten greedy for more and more.

He wanted to gaze at those clear, bright eyes; indulge in the sight for as long as he wanted without any concern about having his motivations questioned, as if those blue orbs were no more piercing and keen as the window he was staring through. He wondered whether that cornsilk fluff atop the man's head was as soft as it looked, and wanted to catch its scent again. He remembered thinking - half panic, half eager anticipation - that Fai was going to kiss him and almost regretted giving that little speech that precluded the possibility of it ever happening.

Not _almost_ regretted, in point of fact. Regretted. All-out. But even so he couldn't rightly see any other path he could have chosen. He hadn't just wanted a kiss; he'd wanted a beginning. Not just a few days of excitement to liven up his routine, but the start of something right and bright and warm to chase away the shadows and fill the emptiness that he'd gotten so good at ignoring. In an unexpected moment of self-examination he found that he was content with his life but not satisfied. Happy enough, but not as happy as he knew he could be. He mourned the family he'd had and was missing the family he could have found.

It had been his parents' lifelong dream to build a cozy nest for themselves up in these wilds so that they could raise a family in the fresh air and open space. After their tragic death, Kurogane had held on to their dream and his home as if they were the last remnants of the loved ones he'd lost. As if letting them fade away from the landscape would mean that their existence would be erased from everything, even his heart and memories.

His routine was almost a ritual; live in the house, run the shop, submerge himself in the snowbound landscape. Anchor the memory of the lost to the present through himself. Somewhere along the way, preserving the little home and shop his parents had built had _become_ his life. There was only that one postcard in his bedroom as proof that he'd ever thought of a different place for himself, like a stray leaf blown in through a window left carelessly open and reluctantly allowed to stay in a corner. Mostly out of sight, never really out of mind, constantly ignored so that it needn't be picked up and thrown away.

After losing the precious few he'd loved most of all, Kurogane had shunned the idea of finding a special someone for himself and raising a family of his own. He was fulfilling his parents' dream but not continuing it on through another generation. Though he hadn't really thought it through nor admitted it to himself, taking someone new into his heart had seemed too dangerous, as if one beloved face might crowd out another and moving on seem too much like moving away. But here he was, away from his home with two strangers putting down roots in his heart, and he suddenly, piercingly, painfully _wanted_ this.

He'd refused to admit he was lonely, refused to admit he was built for home and family instead of solitude, and it was shocking to be slapped in the face with such a revelation after so many years of denial. What was even worse was that he wasn't just finally admitting a longing for more in his life; he wanted these two strangers specifically. He found himself wanting to steal them away from the world and keep them for his own, like a dragon with golden treasure, and it was bitter to know even as he wished it that it could never happen. The blond and the baby already belonged to other people, other lives.

They weren't for him.

What was also undeniable, however, was that the blond and baby were _here_ , snowed in with him in this cabin and part of his life for a short period of time. Maybe he couldn't keep them, but he had them for now, and he supposed ruefully that it wouldn't kill him to make the most of this little upset in his routine. The baby, especially, needed him. He could not ignore her out of a selfish desire to shield his heart from too much pain in bidding her farewell after the storm had blown over. Fai, on the other hand--

\--sat down on the tiny fragment of window-seat that wasn't already occupied, practically sitting on one of the shopkeeper's feet. One lean leg trailed down to the floor to keep the blond balanced, and the other was pulled up to provide a resting place for a pointed chin. Ruddy eyes were blinked rapidly a few times as Kurogane had to reconcile his thoughts of keeping the other man at a safe distance with the fact that Fai had just encamped within his personal space without so much as an "excuse me" or "may I".

Again.

"Did you want more coffee or anything else from the kitchen?" Fai asked, smooth as you please with a little smile lingering about his lips, as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing was awkward about their situation. Two comfortable friends, happy just to be together, babysitting someone's daughter. No mysteries and might-have-beens dangling in the air between them.

"No," Kurogane replied succinctly, because first of all he really didn't want any more coffee just then, and secondly, he would have rather been run down and munched on by a pack of wolves than blurt out some of the things that he _could_ think of to ask for.

_Go away._

_Come here._

_I wish I'd never met you._

_I wish you were mine._

"She's out," Fai commented then, peering at the baby with his smile widening. A quick glance down confirmed that the infant had indeed conked out, one little fist still wrapped tight around a thick finger but otherwise slumped limply against him. "Does this negate the cereal and sleep-through-the-night plan?"

Kurogane cast his gaze around until he caught sight of a clock ticking sedately away on a shelf and took a moment to squint at it, trying to make out exactly which faint line was the minute hand.

"No," he finally replied. "It's still early enough. She'll wake up eventually and then I'll try her on some cereal. Even if she sleeps a while it's not like it matters if I stay up late."

"Mm, true. And if she ends up waking up every two or three hours anyway?"

"Then I'm going to come find you the second time she wakes up so that I can get some sleep," Kurogane said decisively. Fai met this proposal of taking turns more than good-naturedly, even looking rather pleased at the idea of being shaken out of much-needed sleep to tend to a fussing infant.

"Where is your room anyway?" Kurogane asked with a glance over to the stairs, not wanting to go blundering around unfamiliar rooms in the dark. He'd already stubbed one toe; he had no desire to bark his shins on a side table or bust his nose on a doorframe.

The dork would tease him ~~forever~~ for _days_.

"Upstairs," Fai answered vaguely, and when the other man rolled his eyes at this bit of obviousness, gave an apologetic little laugh. "It doesn't matter. If you need me I'll be downstairs or messing around on the landing. We turned most of the second story into sort of a studio slash playroom, so watch where you step if you come upstairs to find me. The lights are always on but it's pretty cluttered."

Kurogane ruminated over this a moment and then finally curiosity - which he mentally categorized as perplexity due to the blond failing to make any sense - overcame him.

"So...what, you're a vampire? You only sleep when the sun's blazing?" He managed to startle a bright laugh from the hotelier with this query, and had to wait a bit for his answer as the baby snuffled and startled. Fai slapped a hand over his mouth and gave a muffled apology while Kurogane shifted the baby, cradling her more snugly with one arm and bouncing her gently to soothe her back down. She was limp and drooling again in just a few seconds, but it took the blond a bit longer to satisfy himself that she was snoozing peacefully.

"Can I choose dare instead of truth?" Fai finally asked, whisper-soft, glancing up through the fringe of his bangs with a playful grin.

"I dare you to tell me why I shouldn't expect to find you sleeping in bed like a normal person in the middle of the night," Kurogane countered.

"Cheater," came the accusation, accompanied by a pout that would have been adorable on a three year old, but only served to make the hotelier look ( _kissable_ ) ridiculous.

"We're not even really playing," the shopkeeper shot back with an exasperated sigh, conveniently bypassing the fact that he'd gone along with the truth and dare options at first. "I was just asking a question."

"Well let's pick it up again--"

"Because that went so well," Kurogane interrupted sarcastically, but got flatly ignored.

"--and I get to go first, since you went last," finished Fai, with a triumphant sort of smile. It was very canary-digesting cat, and made the taller man feel that the blond was up to something. Or after something. _Again_ , damn it all. In any case, Fai seemed about to do or say something that would make Kurogane's blood pressure spike once more.

"Tell me more about your parents," Fai said rather abruptly, and it was such an unexpected request that Kurogane just blinked at him for a moment.

"That's not a question," he grumbled, perplexed, "and you didn't even lead off with 'truth or dare'."

Fai flapped his hand dismissively.

"We always stick with truth anyway. We'll save some time and just trade information."

"That isn't Truth or Dare; that's just _talking_."

"So talk to me," Fai encouraged him, in a tone that heavily implied a silent "silly bear" at the end. The blond head nodded at the baby. "It's not like you have anything else pressing to attend to until her cat nap is over." Kurogane narrowed his eyes at the equilibrium destroying, nosy, noisy personal space invader before him and tried to figure out how he'd gotten into this predicament, and what his options were. The mental exercise was becoming something of a habit, and once again the presence of the infant was getting in the way of his more violent ideas.

While he wished that his host would see fit to give him some space, he decided that flatly demanding to be left alone probably wouldn't get him the kind of peace and quiet that he wanted. Imagination provided unpleasant visions of awkward silences and stilted conversations, with the rebuffed blond either ramping up into frustratingly false cheerfulness to sugar-coat the tension or sullen coldness to punish his ungrateful guest.

He remembered thinking he might as well make the most of his current situation, and wondered if Fai had had the same thought.

Still, he couldn't really see why the blond would want to know more about him when the frail tie that they were weaving between them would be snapped in a week or so. Maybe even just a few days. But then again, this was the man who'd chatted up a cab driver on the way up here and wanted to send his love to two yappy little dogs that he would never lay eyes on. The hotelier liked fussing over people. Perhaps this eagerness after knowing more about others was just another thing that made him who he was.

"Fine," Kurogane eventually sighed. "What do you want to know? And _don't_ say 'everything'."

Thin lips pursed into a thoughtful pout for a couple of seconds, Fai having apparently been on the verge of answering with exactly that one word.

"Well, start at the beginning. Tell me how they met."

His parents' romance was a story he knew by heart, having heard it almost all his life. He could still hear his father's voice in his mind, always leading off with the exact same words.

"It was raining," Kurogane said, eyes flicking over to the window briefly as if he expected to see the young couple standing outside. "My mother got caught out without an umbrella, and my father lent her his."

Blue eyes were intent on him, and after a few seconds ticked by, pale eyebrows quirked expectantly over them.

"What?" the dark-haired man asked defensively, responding to the unspoken question. "You asked me how they met. That's it."

"What am I going to do with you?" said Fai mock-mournfully, shaking his head and sighing. "Okay fine, tell me all about how they met, fell in love, got married and ended up having such a grumpy cub."

Kurogane almost protested not getting a turn but then remembered that they weren't playing games anymore. It wasn't as if he had any burning questions to ask anyway. He gave in with a sigh and began the tale after taking a moment to organize the memories, like setting up cue cards for a speech.

He'd never had occasion to tell it before but all the details were carved deep into his mind, told and retold to him by his father countless times. At first it had been a favorite bedtime tale for a young boy to whom his parents' romance was as great and grand an adventure as a story about a knight rescuing a princess. Later his father would launch into the story at every fair opportunity just to tease his son as he grew into all the confusion and awkwardnesses of youth. The man had laughed and joked and the boy had pretended to disgusted with the old tale, but listened with a strange sort of secret pride that his parents should still be so grossly in love after all these years. And later still, it had been a tale told only on special occasions, when the father would look forward to the day when his son might leave home on his own adventures, find his own regal beauty to rescue and romance, and discover a new hearth and home to claim for his own.

But then the man had died, and the son had curled up in the cold ashes of his old life and not stirred from them.

An old tale, not told in years, but still perfectly intact in his memories. Once he got started it was easy enough to continue. Kurogane's eyes rested on some random patch of wall while his vision turned inward to watch the movie his imagination had compiled over the years with the aid of photographs and his father's narratives.

Kurogane recited and remembered, and as the words spilled from his mouth found that it felt good to speak of them, now. Remembering didn't always have to come with regret, sharp and cruel. Just as with his nightmare, the warmth and presence of other people near him ( _close enough to grab if he wanted, close enough to hold and protect, and he wanted_) made all the difference.

Being able to cradle the little princess he'd picked up along the way in this very strange day had soothed the old pain of empty arms. Her demanding cries had smothered the memory of imagined wails. And now, instead of only having to regret his parents' loss in speaking of them, he felt a strange satisfaction in letting this practically-a-stranger get to know them. Sharing the knowledge of those good and giving people seemed to strengthen the memory of them, even though Fai naturally had no love for people he'd never known, and therefore could feel no real pain in understanding that they were gone. He could appreciate who they'd been, though. He could remember them without mourning them, and that seemed a good and right thing, somehow.

Good and right, just like the parents Kurogane remembered.

His father, gentle and kind, but also brave and brawny. Very few had ever attempted to taunt or take advantage of his sweet nature because of how unafraid he had been to wade into a fight, but no one had ever decried him for a bully either because he'd never fought without good cause. Injustice had particularly stung the young man and most of the fights - verbal or otherwise - he'd involved himself in could have been categorized as rescue missions. None of the actual neighborhood bullies had been safe from being at least interrupted and pestered to rethink their amusements if he happened upon them, even if they had been picking on something so ignominious and ignorable as a spider.

In defending the weak, Kurogane's father had not been acting the hero; rather it had been a natural result of his caring nature. He hadn't been officious or overbearing; he'd simply been unable to resist any opportunity to aid and assist. Those around him had naturally benefitted, and it had proven a boon to the man himself; it had gained him the love of his life.

Kurogane's mother had been small and weak and prone to coughs and colds from birth, but her condition had been mild enough in her early years that she'd still managed to grow up pretty and pink-cheeked, and with a taste for freedom and fresh air. By the time her parents began to truly worry for their daughter's health, it was too late; she'd wriggled free from their anxious arms and refused to give up her daily walks regardless of the weather, roaming all about in quest of a pretty flower or berry-laden twig to put in a vase, or "making her calls", as she put it.

She'd picked up the old-fashioned notion while reading Regency era romances. It had appealed to her kindly nature and strong sense of duty, and soon everyone to whom she'd felt that she owed any attention had been able to count on regularly having her stop by their home or haunt to say hello and pass a bit of time in friendly chat. For some of her social contacts, cans of cat food had been substituted for the chatter.

An unexpected shower had caught her unawares on one such round of calls, and fate had sent her a knight with an easy grin and a black umbrella. She'd been damp and not a little frizzy, with her arms full of little tins of Fancy Feast, but had enchanted her rescuer immediately despite all this. The rain hadn't been able to damp the sparkle in her eyes and her smile had blinded the young man to the cat food. Once she'd expressed unwillingness to stay under shelter while the rain made the neighborhood's feral cats even more uncomfortable, her new friend had accompanied her for the rest of the afternoon, holding the umbrella directly over her with cheerful unconcern for his own increasingly soggy state.

Happily optimistic about similar weather conditions for the remainder of the week, the young man had offered - and been ecstatic in having his offer accepted - his umbrella-holding services and company again. He'd bought a bigger umbrella and made her laugh at the way he would constantly circle around her, trying to serve as a windbreak. Her human friends had enjoyed his hearty laugh, and the feral cats had soon been ensconced in handmade cat-houses built from wood scraps and lined with carpet remnants. Even after the rain had dried up, their acquaintance had not, and it had not been long before the two young people had gone from chance acquaintances to friends, developed from friends to best friends, and then made a short hop to love.

She'd been impressed by his integrity, and he by her zest for life that not even repeated bouts of bronchitis and pneumonia could tamp down. She'd made him sweaters, and he'd bought her scarves and mittens. She'd let him fuss over her but only up to a certain point, and he'd admired her independence even while arguing that she didn't take care of herself well enough. She'd respected and loved him. He had worshipped her.

He'd proposed with a ridiculously intricate cat-sized two-story log cabin with a diamond ring hung up on the front door like a knocker, and a promise to build her a similar - albeit much larger - one if she didn't mind a rather long wait while he saved up for the building materials. As soon as she'd stopped giggling over the gift, she'd said yes.

The dream of a human-sized log cabin had taken a long time to realize, but finally one day - after graduation, months of planning, years of hard work and a small but sweet wedding - a beaming young man had swept his pale, pretty wife off her feet and carried her up the few front steps and across the porch to their new nest. She'd been giggling but then stopped suddenly as they'd approached the threshold, reaching out one hand to grab at the plastic teething ring hanging on the door. Her husband had only added this whimsical little touch to represent what he hoped for, just as he'd hung her engagement ring on the cat-cabin, but she'd held it up and stared at him in surprise.

"How did you know?" she'd asked her husband wonderingly. "I only just found out myself yesterday morning."

"He told me he stumbled in the doorway and almost dropped her," Kurogane snorted, and then had to pause as Fai dissolved into laughter, poorly muffled into the back of one slender hand. It felt like a good stopping point anyway, and Kurogane took a breath and cleared his throat a few times. He was a little hoarse, not being accustomed to talking so much, and began to regret not getting a second cup of coffee.

"Oh," Fai cooed once he'd recovered his lung function, looking like he'd just read the most treacly Hallmark card in all of Colorado and thoroughly enjoyed it. " _Oh_ , that is adorable. _They're_ adorable. Tell me more."

"No," Kurogane replied, but it wasn't a growl or snap. Instead it came out easily, mellow and comfortable, and he followed it up with an explanation of sorts. "My voice is going to give out, and besides, you asked for their romance, not their marriage."

"Their romance ended after they got married?" the blond asked, one dubiously quirked eyebrow disappearing into his bangs.

"Well, no," the shopkeeper admitted. "They were still acting like lovestruck teenagers when _I_ was a teenager, in fact."

"Well then," Fai said triumphantly, "that means you haven't finished telling the story." Kurogane gave in with a short sigh but did not immediately resume the tale.

"Later. I need something to drink."

His host was immediately on his feet, pattering off to the kitchen and only pausing before rounding a corner to get his guest's order. Kurogane decided with a snort of amusement that Fai might be built like a stork but acted like a hen.

"More coffee? Or tea? I have Earl Grey, Lady Grey, English Breakfast...oh, if you want green tea I have both gunpowder and gyokurou...or maybe something cold? I have milk, grapefruit juice, white grape juice, sparkling water, I think there might be beer, too, India pale ale and something wheaty..."

Kurogane abruptly cut in when his patience gave out before the beverage options did.

"Just water," he called out, with a touch of exasperation. "Non-sparkly." There was enough sparkly happening on his toe already, thanks. The baby stirred a bit as he raised his voice, and he shifted in the window seat so that he could bounce her back to sleep again. Moving suddenly made him realize that he felt a little gross from his nightmare, and he wondered about the possibility of handing the infant off to the other man for a while so that he could go shower.

Fai poked his head out from the kitchen, but instead of a glass of water, he held up the bottle of whiskey the shopkeeper had brought from his store and wiggled it.

"There's also this," the blond suggested. Kurogane eyed the alcohol for a moment but then shook his head.

"You're not being annoying enough right now for me to need it," he admitted. "Water's fine." This teased a laugh out of Fai, as well as some light-hearted speculation about what antics might have to be pulled in order for the bottle to get cracked open, and finally a tumbler of ice water.

They traded the infant and the drink, Fai cozying himself into the window seat again after setting the water down on a nearby table and Kurogane carefully shifting his limp little bundle into the other man's waiting arms. A good stretch and a gulp of water later, the shopkeeper drifted back to the window and decided to revive an earlier question while finishing his drink.

"So," he said casually as he sat down again in the opposite corner. "Tell me how you became a vampire." He got a look of pure confusion at first, all knitted up eyebrows and wide eyes, but then the blond recalled the conversation which had kicked off their latest exchange - one-sided, still - of information.

"Insomniac, actually," he said quietly, voice shaking a bit with barely suppressed laughter. "Not chronic though. I sleep fine when I'm at home."

Fai hesitated, nibbling in a bit of his lower lip before expanding on his explanation. "Well, not _at home_ necessarily. I sleep fine when I'm with my brother, is what it really is. We're twins and have always been very close. It's not like I can psychically tell when he's near or not, but when we're apart like this I don't really sleep, just cat nap here and there."

The hotelier's gaze was steady as he stared across the few feet that separated them. His expression was almost challenging, or perhaps aggressively on the defensive, just waiting for Kurogane to pick up this new information and poke at the whole idea of the man having come up here for the sheer pleasure of suffering sleeplessness in this grand, empty cabin and missing the brother he admittedly could not rest well without. Kurogane did in fact recall the thought he'd had during their game of Truth or Dare, that the blond might be punishing himself by coming up here to endure loneliness and painful memories. Fai tended to blame himself for things, and guilty people sometimes craved, sought out or even caused self-inflicted punishment if no one else stepped forward to deal out justice or retribution.

That growing need to know ( _to learn, to share in and to have_ ) more of this enigmatic and enchanting stranger did not extend into a decision to actually pry at that moment. Kurogane accepted what he was told, digested it in a thoughtful silence and then dropped his head to look at the infant contentedly drooling away in Fai's lap.

"You're lucky, Princess," he commented. "Neither of us sleeps much apparently, so you'll get all the attention you want."

"Lucky?" Fai objected, a doubtful smile twisting his lips. "She was left in a cab in the middle of winter."

"And found before she froze to death," Kurogane pointed out.

"By a complete stranger who almost dropped her," the blond added, briefly raising one hand with a regretful wrinkle of his nose.

"And another stranger who caught her before she hit the floor."

"But who are both, as mentioned, strangers."

"And humane enough to provide shelter, food and care."

"Through a terrible snowstorm."

"In a stupid-plushy cabin and _will you stop arguing with me?_ "

"She has a peculiar kind of luck then," the blond concluded with a soft smile and careful caress of one dimpled little hand. "Unfortunate things happen to her, but her good luck keeps them from turning out badly. Think she was cursed and blessed at birth simultaneously, like Aurora? I guess your nickname of Princess is more fitting than we knew."

Kurogane shrugged and downed some more of his water. The conversation was taking a fanciful turn and he didn't feel like following it too far down the road. Fairy godmothers and evil witches might be lurking around a corner in that fair head, and then he'd just get annoyed all over again and the window seat was too comfortable ( _the baby too cute and comforting, the blond too close and cozy_ ) to court such disturbances.

"If _she_ ever tumbles into a little shack in the snow, it'll probably turn out to be full of cushions and kittens, with a kindly old grandmother baking cookies in the corner," Fai mused, curling one finger under the infant's free hand and stroking her tiny fingers.

And that was enough of _that_. Kurogane tossed back the last gulp and then stood up, drawing a curious query from his companion.

"Where are you going?"

"Shower," he replied succinctly.

"Do you want me to try feeding her the cereal if she wakes up soon?" Fai asked, and the taller man nodded after a brief pause to ponder the suggestion over. And to be faintly impressed at the blond having asked a sensible question instead of whining about being left alone.

"Yeah. Just mix one tablespoon from that rice cereal box in with the formula and bottle feed her like usual. Give it a few tries and if she just won't take it, you can just give her plain formula."

The hotelier's face wrinkled a bit into a perplexed frown, and Kurogane wondered if the man had been envisioning pouring flakes into a bowl, adding formula, and then digging in with a spoon.

"...or wait for me to get out of the shower," he added, and was rewarded with a rather relieved smile and nod.

"I'll read the box and do some Googling on my phone," Fai decided. "If I scare myself I'll just wait for you."

Kurogane gave one last nod and then turned away, walking off to leave his glass in the sink and then try to scrub his brains back into place in the shower. Once he was out of sight of the blond, the ease of manner he'd unthinkingly slipped into dissipated and left him feeling a bit disoriented. He wasn't certain if he felt off balance because of the fact that talking to Fai of his parents had been so unexpectedly soothing, or despite it. Or even if it was because he was so unused to having such a wealth of comforting companionship, or the very fact that he was finding it comforting.

Whatever it was, he hoped that hot water would not just sluice off the last remnants of his latest nightmare, but also help him figure out whether letting Fai get closer to him was smart or stupid. What had seemed so cut and dry earlier today was getting fuzzier by the hour.


	7. Kurogane takes a shower

Twenty minutes later he hadn't gotten anything figured out but was feeling quite a bit better, and only minimally due to the fact that the shimmery pink fairy princess bandaid was now in the trash bin. He'd been relieved to find that the shower had simple and perfectly sensible controls despite being ridiculously large and possessing two more shower heads than a normal person needed, and even more relieved that he'd thought to bring his own soap and shampoo. After setting down his plain bar of soap next to the array of suspiciously fruity-floral looking bottles already in the metal caddy, Kurogane stood a while under the hot spray, turning slowly to let the water rinse away the suds that still clung to him.

It felt good. He was warm, comfortable, calm... _soothed_. Not just the fat droplets drumming steadily against his body and the way he could feel his own weight anchoring him down solidly to the irregularly shaped tiles under his feet, but this whole strange hiccup in his life was turning out to be bizarrely enjoyable. Caring for a baby again; feeding and changing and holding her. Letting someone get near to him; relaxing and talking and sharing together. Things that had been high on the never-again list that he hadn't admitted that he had because he'd thought they would only resurrect painful memories at full strength. It hadn't occurred to him that it was only the _loss_ that hurt and that keeping his arms and heart empty was actually perpetuating the pain, not suppressing it.

His thoughts meandered, trying to untangle themselves as his body continued relaxing into the warmth of the water, and so it was perhaps unsurprising that Kurogane nearly had a heart attack and almost broke his neck at the same time when Fai suddenly burst into the bathroom, yelling for him. The shopkeeper startled so badly that "flailed" was the only word to properly describe his reaction, and just barely saved himself from slipping and falling by slamming his hands against the glass walls of the shower stall to brace himself.

His shocked oaths were drowned out by the squeak of his hands against the glass and some frantic babbling from the other side of it, and some of the blond's panic soon transmitted itself to Kurogane when he remembered the third occupant of the cabin. Condensation obscured his view and the combined noise from the water and his thundering heartbeat muddied his hearing, so the shopkeeper gave the tap a violent wrench to shut it off and then threw open the door, making Fai backpedal quickly as the glass swung out, though it didn't make him stop talking.

"--did exactly what you said I swear, I checked the temperature and I used the right box and I don't know why--"

Kurogane only half-listened as he stepped quickly out of the stall and raked his gaze over the hotelier, imagining all sorts of terrible accidents ( _first sleep and now showers; he was going to develop a serious neurosis about doing anything while there was an infant under his care_) and then pausing at the sight of the baby girl safe and sound and looking about as confused as he himself was beginning to feel. Fai was holding her in both arms, but for some reason had the infant slung sideways across his ribcage, her head cradled in the crook of one arm and little limbs waving uncertainly. She was making little mewing noises barely audible underneath her caretaker's continued talking and though her face was scrunching up unhappily she looked fine.

Tan hands came up to rake dripping hair out of his eyes so that a better second look could be taken, but with no different conclusions drawn. He stared hard enough to feel the strain behind his eyes but saw no blood, no swelling or angry red burns, not even a little welt or blossoming bruise, and most importantly there were no tears or piercing shrieks telling him he should be looking for the reason that she was crying and Fai was freaking out.

"Will you shut up for a second?" Kurogane snapped, finally bringing his eyes back up to the blond. He had to repeat the main part of his request and put his hands out in a classic _stop_ gesture before Fai finally wound down. One dark eyebrow quirked up at the way the blond was practically hopping in place in agitation, and then the shopkeeper blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

"What happened, and why the hell are you holding her like that?" he asked in pure perplexity.

"She threw up!" Fai blurted, his face all crinkled up in anxiety. "I'm making sure she's on her left side so she doesn't choke. I didn't poison her I swear, I checked--"

"Moron, that is what you do for blackout drunks, not sick babies." Kurogane interrupted before the guilt-ridden man could get going again on his confession, his own voice a mix of exasperation, disbelief and amusement. "Here, let me see her." He reached for the baby with damp hands and managed to wrangle her away from the flustered, fluttery man after a moment so that he could give her a more thorough once-over.

" _Ammm,_ " she complained to him once she was upright again, and at closer quarters he noticed that her chin and pajamas were liberally decorated with spit-up. He took a quick sniff to confirm his diagnosis, gave her a few pats and pokes and watched her critically for a few more moments to confirm that she was not unduly distressed, and finally gave a short sigh of relief.

"She's fine," he reported, cradling her against his bare chest and giving her an apologetic pat. _Sorry, Princess. I shouldn't have left you in the hands of a bird-brain._ "She just spit up a little. Babies do that. In fact I'm surprised she hasn't been doing it already." His relief turned into resignation as he realized that cradling her close had transferred some of the sticky mess to him, and then he froze when the thought of _great, I just took a shower_ turned into _no scratch that; I was taking a shower_.

Kurogane had a staring contest with the baby as a couple of seconds ticked ever so slowly by. Years spent living alone had gotten him out of the habit of locking doors, and it had suddenly risen up and bitten him squarely in the ass. He blinked, and a bead of cooling water fell from one clumped-together section of hair to splat against his forearm, then slipped down past his elbow and over his stomach before sliding coyly along his inner thigh. Yep, he was definitely still naked. It was almost surprising that he hadn't been able to hear the droplet hit, since it had gotten so suddenly silent in the steam-filled bathroom. The baby stared quite calmly back at him while trying to eat the fingers of her left hand, and off in his peripheral vision, Fai had also gone completely quiet and still.

Brown eyes gone suddenly hard and glittery shifted slowly but surely toward the hotelier, and Kurogane's torso swelled with rage, not just the breath he was drawing in.

" _You_ ," he ground out venomously, and the slender statue flinched back into life. Blue eyes were ripped away - and _up_ \- and then hastily flung into a random corner of the bathroom.

"Um," Fai said, and then left his lips pressed together, biting them as if trying to keep himself from blurting out anything that might further damage his chances of survival. Color rode high on his cheeks as he stared fixedly at nothing, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if fighting a smile.

"You _knew_ there was nothing wrong with her," Kurogane accused him, fuming, steaming and still _naked_ damn it all because he couldn't think of anywhere to put the baby so that he could make himself semi-decent. Getting close enough again to hand her back to the other man was currently off the table for obvious reasons.

" _No_ ," came the immediate protest, accompanied by a shake of that blond head and an earnest look. "I didn't. I promise." The look didn't last very long; as soon as those wide-open blue eyes locked with his they seemed to stumble and fall down to his chest, and with a quick inhale the blond was flinging his gaze away again before it could drop any further.

"I really thought something was wrong," Fai told the medicine cabinet. "I didn't know what else to do except come and get you, and the fact that you were in the shower just...didn't register. Well, at least not at first." Blue eyes tentatively flickered over again, and this time the blond let his mouth go and smiled, half penitent, half totally not.

"...I'm sorry?" The cautious apology was accompanied by outstretched arms. "Well anyway since she's all right, let me take her back so you can get back to your shower. Which...I interrupted. With pure intentions, I assure you."

Fai seemed sincere, if a little too amused at the situation and not just a little too distracted by the peep show unintentionally put on for him, and Kurogane attempted to vent the rest of his anger in a deep sigh of resignation at the topsy turvy mess his life was right now.

"Whatever. I was done anyway," he grumbled dismissively. A couple of steps brought him within arm's reach of the current torment of his life and he grimaced at the way the goopy patch on his torso cooled as the baby was peeled away and handed off.

"Go get her changed," he ordered as he reached for a towel and took a couple of swipes at the spit-up on his chest. "There's another set of pj's in my bag. I'll be out in a few minutes and then I'll put her to bed." Fai paused in the doorway, half in and half out and still struggling a bit with keeping his eyes where politeness dictated that they ought to be.

"Won't she be hungry if she's just yucked up everything I fed her though?" the blond asked the doorframe. "Should I make her another bottle?"

He almost tossed off a quick negative and left it at that, but paused as he realized that he didn't know exactly how much the baby had spit up nor the amount she'd been able to drink down before this unfortunate interruption. The shopkeeper stepped close again, one hand rising to lightly nudge the infant's cheek a few times. The towel was held in front of him but only absently, his mind too absorbed with the infant to care much for modesty. Hazy blue eyes looked up at him but he didn't get any open-mouthed nuzzling, and so he shook his head.

"She doesn't seem hungry. She probably didn't spit up all that much; it just looked like a lot to you." Kurogane only got a rather absent-minded sounding hum in acknowledgement and shifted his gaze to the blond, cocking an eyebrow at the way Fai was looking up at him with a wry twist of a smile. At such close quarters he could even see a faint frown knitting together behind the messy fall of long bangs.

"What?" the shopkeeper demanded, dripping water and irritability.

"I can't figure out if you're being mean or are just plain oblivious," came the cryptic reply, making Kurogane roll his eyes.

"And I can't figure you out at all," he admitted, and then brought a large hand down on that fluffy head, clamping down with his fingers and firmly turning the hotelier away from the bathroom. "Get out. Get her changed."

"Bossy bear," Fai accused, but he stepped out obediently without any further comment and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Kurogane to get dried off and dressed in peace.

The tiled room was ridiculously spacious considering it was just one of the guest bathrooms, and the shopkeeper had brought in a change of clothes with him so that he needn't tramp back to his bedroom in just a towel. He quickly went about wiping down the shower and fixing his coffee breath with a good brushing, and then had to stand around for a couple of minutes to finish cooling down. He always ran on the hot side and would have started to sweat right through his clothes if he'd gotten dressed immediately after toweling off.

Dark grey sweatpants went on first, and then Kurogane paused as he caught sight of his injured toe. It wasn't bleeding out afresh but the shower had washed away all the ointment, leaving the wound looking wet and raw. Not that he particularly cared if Fai had to spend a few extra dollars on cleaning the carpets, but the naturally fastidious man balked at the idea of dotting around the cabin leaving little red marks wherever he went. The shopkeeper went to the medicine cabinet to poke around for a new bandage, resigning himself to more sparkly pink crap on his body and consoling himself with the fact that he could at least cover it up with a clean sock. He froze in place when his eyes landed on a box of comfort-flex Band-Aid brand adhesives in assorted sizes, all in a pale, plain flesh tone with not a single fairy princess in sight.

Kurogane closed his eyes and tried counting to ten, but he only made it to three before snapping his eyes open again and snatching the thin cardboard box off of the shelves with a vicious swipe.

Faint strains of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" could be heard coming from the bedroom assigned to the two guests of the cabin, and Kurogane homed in on the sound, jaw tight and fists clenched. How he might have cornered and fallen upon his prey if it was just the two of them was not hard to deduce, but as before the presence of the infant acted as a choke chain on the hot-tempered man.

He strode purposefully down the hall and almost left dents in the doorknob with his grip, but the door was merely swung open, not slammed against the wall to come rebounding on the shopkeeper as he tracked down his quarry. He didn't grab Fai and make him eat the bandaids, either. Dark eyes almost throwing sparks landed first upon the baby girl, clad now in a muted pink onesie decorated with tiny white flowers, being cradled close and quietly serenaded. Just as it had at the foot of the stairs in his home, all his ire softened at the sight of the little girl being so tenderly cared for. She was not yet asleep but seemed only a few blinks away from it, all curled up and quiescent as she was with heavy-lidded eyes drowsily tracking back and forth between lazy blinks as she was waltzed around the room.

The singing and slow, swaying steps stopped at Kurogane's abrupt entrance and Fai turned to face him with quirked eyebrows and a calm smile at the ready, but this expression was quickly succeeded by blank surprise and then - strangely enough - a resurgence of that somewhat petulant frown-and-smile combination.

"All right, now you're just being mean," Fai said. His voice was a low murmur, but there were no other noises to compete with it save for the faint howl of the wind outside, and the words came through clearly. The accuser-turned-accused shook his head slightly as if trying to clear the cobwebs of confusion from his brain.

"Me?" Kurogane demanded, keeping his voice down to a rumble instead of a snarl while he shook the little carton in his hand at his host. "You're the one sticking stupid glittery bandaids on me and telling me they're the only ones you've got."

Blue eyes flickered over the somewhat menacing presence in the doorway and noted the little carton held - crunched - in one fist.

"That wasn't mean, nor was it a lie," said the blond, strangely cool in manner now. The smile was slipping away but the frown remained. Despite having come here to confront Fai with his little lie and subsequent trick, Kurogane began to feel as if he was the one who'd misstepped.

"I told you that those were the only bandaids I had in my bathroom, and they are," Fai continued. "I didn't say that they were the only ones I had in the cabin. And making you stalk around with a pretty princess on your toe is mischievous at most, not mean. That would be your department."

Kurogane frowned, naturally wanting to attack the other man on his childish sense of humor but hesitating at the repeated insistence that he himself was deserving of chastisement for his behavior. He felt like he was missing part of the conversation and chased after clarity instead of launching into a harangue.

"All right, what's with all the 'mean' comments?"

Fai had swiveled away again, still slowly bouncing the dozy infant, and he looked back over his shoulder. The smile was entirely gone now as he explained himself again.

"'Look but don't touch' is nothing if not mean," the hotelier stated. "You know I'm interested in you but you don't want to pursue anything. Fine. But I'd appreciate it if you'd stop parading around undressed--"

"I am not _parading around undressed_ \--" Kurogane protested. As he stood there in nothing but a pair of thin sweat pants.

Fai did not derail the main argument to discuss how much clothing constituted being fully dressed, half dressed or undressed. Instead he fixed a sharp look on the taller man and delivered an ultimatum.

"Put a shirt on or I'm going to take this to mean that you've reconsidered and are clumsily attempting to seduce me."

Kurogane opened his mouth, automatically wanting to protest the "clumsy" jab, but then snapped it shut again as he realized how stupid the impulse was. Arguing over how effectively he was trying to seduce the other man would only confirm that he was, in fact, trying. Which he wasn't. He pressed his lips into a thin line, returning that challenging stare with a glower for lack of ideas about what else to do, then whirled about and marched back to the bathroom to finish getting dressed.

The dark-haired man returned to the bedroom wearing a bit more clothing and exuding a lot less ire. The box of bandaids was back in the medicine cabinet minus one small adhesive strip, and his right hand was now holding a zip-up hoodie that he was still too warm to want to put on. A plain white t-shirt and socks made him decent enough for casual company and he paused in the open doorway, poking his head in instead of just striding right back inside in case...well, he didn't really know what to expect. Or fear. Or hope for.

Instead of a bright challenging stare and aggressive stance, he was greeted by the sight of the long, lanky figure curled up cross-legged on the bed, spine curved and fair hair falling like a curtain all around his face as he stared down at the little pink and white form in his arms. The baby was cradled close to Fai's body, draped along one forearm and cuddling quite contentedly into the available body heat. She seemed to have fallen asleep and her living cradle was no longer singing, only softly stroking one rosy cheek with a finger, barely getting close enough to actually make contact.

Kurogane stepped into the room, pushing the door wider though there was already enough room to let him in and letting the faint noise and movement announce his arrival. The blond head lifted and two blue eyes fixed on him immediately. There was a brief assessing look during which the shopkeeper felt himself unaccountably straighten up a fraction, and then he was offered a smile. Faint at first, growing quickly and finally warm and wide, spreading to the man's eyes and relaxing shoulders that he hadn't realized were tensed.

He moved closer, first to peer down at the infant and then to indicate with a look and jerk of his head that Fai should get off of the bed. A bit of cautious wriggling later, the blond was standing in the middle of the room, slowly bouncing back and forth on his feet to keep his little charge firmly planted in slumberland. Kurogane began turning down the bed, and while he wrestled with the ridiculously fluffy comforter, glanced over his shoulder briefly to speak to his companion.

"Sorry," he offered a bit awkwardly. One voice in his head argued strenuously that he hadn't done a damned thing wrong and shouldn't have to even _feel_ like he ought to apologize. Another voice, more reasonable and right and therefore generally gaining the upper hand, responded that no matter his intentions - or lack thereof - he had made his host uncomfortable and at least owed the man an apology if nothing else. He heard no response from the hotelier, and comforter, blankets, sheet and pillows were methodically removed one by one in utter silence until all that remained over the mattress was the fitted sheet.

Ruddy eyes cut back again and this time lingered, caught by the sight of Fai standing still and just smiling at him in a fond and rather bemused fashion. Kurogane straightened up from looming over the mattress and gave the other man a _what?_ sort of look, making Fai huff faintly in laughter and shake his head.

"Nothing," the blond murmured, still looking softly happy. Content and satisfied, like a cat in a patch of sunlight. "It's nice to know you don't have a mean streak after all. Just a thick skull."

Dark eyes narrowed at this last bit, but Kurogane had no desire to start another unexpected tiff after which he'd find himself feeling an inexplicable need to apologize. It was late, the relaxing aftereffects of the shower were lasting longer than those of its unfortunately tense denouement, and the atmosphere was peaceful and cozy. He had no desire to let his temper wreck all this unnecessarily. Satisfying himself with just growling at the lighthearted insult, Kurogane turned back to his work, and the stripped-down bed was carefully moved across the carpet until two sides of it were flush against the walls. After all the bedding was folded and left in a fluffy stack on the floor near the foot of the bed, the shopkeeper gave the whole arrangement a nod of satisfaction before turning and reaching out to take the little girl into his own arms.

Fai had been watching him with curious interest but at this, the blond blinked at him in surprise and twisted his upper body a bit, playing keep-away with the baby.

"You can't just plunk her down on nothing but a mattress and a bare sheet," the blond protested in a quiet yet clearly off-put murmur, frowning slightly at the bed. The hotelier was probably offended by the spartan accommodations being offered to their little princess. The taller rolled his eyes at the need for yet another baby care lesson as he replied.

"I can, I will and I _should_ ," he replied. "Pillows and blankets are smother hazards."

Fai seemed to see the logic in this after just a quick ponder, but immediately came up with another protest.

"But what if she rolls off the bed?"

"I don't think she's old enough to roll over even once," Kurogane posited, and to cut off any further argument based on a lack of absolute certainty, added, "and I'll be sleeping on the outside edge anyway."

"She might roll the other way."

"Through the wall?" Kurogane asked dryly. "I doubt she's capable of picking up that much speed."

"She might get stuck between the wall and bed."

"Oh for--" The dark-haired man bit off the impolite imprecation welling up over his tongue and whirled away, bending swiftly to snatch up the loose sheet he'd folded up and set aside. It was partially unfurled and then rolled tightly to make a long sausage of fabric, and then Kurogane spent some time muttering darkly to himself while tucking it under the inside edge of the fitted sheet. It made a nice little bumper along the long edge against the wall, and he turned back to the blond with a grumpy sigh.

"Happy?"

"What about the head of the bed?"

"She's not going to rotate in place in her sleep and then go rolling off," he hissed, barely remembering to keep his voice down to levels acceptable for use around sleeping babies.

Fai gave him a wounded look and then glanced unhappily between the infant and the bed a few times, his expression conveying a conviction that these might be his last moments with the baby were he to hand her trustingly over to be laid onto the cotton covered death trap. Kurogane withstood the waffling but found himself caving in when the blond turned those big blue eyes onto him and threw in an anxious nibble of a lower lip. A thin blanket was retrieved from the floor with a grumble and tucked under the fitted sheet next, creating a low hill at the head of the mattress.

"Happy _now_?" Kurogane asked, expecting a quiet cheer or something. Instead Fai gazed sorrowfully at the foot of the bed.

"You've got to be kidding me," the dark-haired man growled.

"But--" Fai began, and immediately got cut off.

"No. We're done. Get out." Kurogane reached for the infant once more, and this time succeeded in getting her out of the hotelier's overprotective clutches.

"Mean," Fai accused, but this time the word held no frosty bite and instead of making the taller man pause in unease, it only drew forth a derisive snort.

"Good _night_ ," Kurogane said, with more command than courtesy, and herded his host out of the room. He nudged the door most of the way shut with one foot, muffling the stream of complaints about ill-tempered and ill-mannered grizzlies, and then turned back to actually take a good look at his quarters for the night. The overhead light was off but a lamp on a bedside table filled the room with a warm glow, pushing the darkness back until it was nothing but faint shadows pooling in the folds of the blanket thrown over the chair in the corner and lingering underneath the desk, behind the table and bed.

Like the parts of the cabin he had already familiarized himself with, the guest bedroom was expensively furnished but also tastefully so. The theme of nature-inspired colors and simple furnishings only dressed up with splashes of color or texture here and there continued. The room was predominantly oatmeal-ish, both in wall and carpet color and the nubby texture of the upholstery and curtains. The plainness was broken up with dark brown wood, brassy accessories and dark green trim, burnt orange-red blankets from the bed and on a chair by the window, and a framed piece of art on one wall made of random curls of birch bark interwoven with branches that looked like a royal bitch to dust but was pleasing to the eye.

Even better than the decor was the fact that he had it all to himself now, and Kurogane exhaled slowly, reveling in the silence. No less worthy of reveling in was the warm little bundle draped against his chest, but it took him a few more seconds to realize that she was providing the lion's share of the contentment that he was experiencing.

The tall figure bowed slightly, hunching over as if to try and curl himself around this little nucleus of damp heat, muscular arms tightening about the infant ever so slightly. Kurogane rested his face against the head of short blond fuzz, not nuzzling or scattering kisses as her other temporary caretaker had done but simply taking in her scent. The evocative smell of baby powder mingled with a faint hint of soap and the mealy scent of formula, stirring up memories that he only hesitated at for a split second before letting them wash over him. He had no experience of the ocean but he thought suddenly occurred to him that facing the waves might be a little like this; so much easier when you didn't fight it.

Breaking out of his brief reverie, the dark-haired man pressed his lips to the top of the baby's head in a quick arguably-not-an-actual-kiss, then carefully set the infant down on the bed, placing her somewhat near the corner. Kurogane took a moment to turn off the bedside lamp - keeping one wary eye on the infant just in case she did in fact evidence a sudden talent for rolling - and then laid himself down as well. He sighed as he did so, but this time it wasn't aggravation or regret or any other such thing that had been drawing similar exhalations from him that day.

He sighed, and it was just a sigh, nothing more. If anything it was a satisfied sound; the long strange day was finally over, he was warm and clean, the mattress felt firm enough that he didn't fear waking up needing a chiropractor, and it was calming to be able to watch the rhythmic rise and fall of the baby's torso as she slumbered. He rolled over onto his side and let his hand fall just by the little girl, not weighing her down but close enough to feel her move against the backs of his fingers as she breathed.

Instead of counting sheep, Kurogane began marking off her breaths, and fell asleep before he got to thirty.


	8. Maybe you'll buy me a goldfish someday

He came suddenly awake and blinked rapidly, the remnants of a dream slipping away and leaving him disoriented in its wake. He couldn't recall what the dream had been about but he knew for certain that it had not been the same nightmare that disrupted almost every night of his life, and that in and of itself was unusual enough to make him feel a bit out of it. His heart rate and breathing were calm, his body was relaxed, and there was just this strange feeling of straining after some noise to make him a tiny bit anxious to know why he'd woken.

The room was still dark, but light from the hallway filtered in past the slightly cracked-open door and let him see faintly. The infant was happily right where he'd left her; in front of his face and within arm's reach. He stared at her fixedly for a few seconds to confirm that she was breathing before letting himself relax a notch. Kurogane then rolled over to squint at the digital clock on the bedside table and froze as a faint noise caught his attention.

A light snore.

He whipped his head back around and frowned suspiciously at the infant, but she was sleeping silently, and besides which the noise had seemed to come from somewhere around his feet. Kurogane carefully got up on one elbow and peered down the length of the bed, but saw nothing. Just as he was about to brush it off as his imagination or some misheard noise like a branch scraping against a window in another room, he heard another whisper-faint snore. Definitely coming from just beyond his socks. The shopkeeper sat the rest of the way up and crawled to the foot of the mattress to peer over the edge next, and spent a long moment just staring down in disbelief.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," he muttered quietly, shaking his head in a sleep-fuzzed mixture of befuddlement and bemusement.

The bedding that he'd stripped away and folded up neatly earlier had been unfolded most of the way to make a cushy pad on the floor, and there were six pillows - four more than had originally been in the room - packed close together on top of it like marshmallows rubbing cheeks across the top of a large graham cracker. He could have taken a dive off the bed face first and not bruised his nose, much less broken it.

It looked like a comfortable place to take a nap, but Fai was curled up on the carpet instead, just beyond what was apparently the hotelier's idea of a contingency plan in case of babies being able to roll five feet down a bed in their sleep and take a flying leap onto the floor. He lay on the outer edge of the redeployed bedding as if using his own body as an additional bulwark to separate the infant from the floor, still dressed in his sweater and slacks with his head pillowed on one arm and his free hand loosely cradling his smart phone. The man seemed to have fallen asleep while messing about with it and was now snoring faintly at odd intervals.

Kurogane peered at him for a while, rather surprised that he hadn't woken up during any of this sneaky bedding-shuffling within such close proximity. He wondered if he should be insulted at this proof that Fai's faith in his infant-related wisdom was not absolute, but found much more charitable feelings stirring instead. The blond had started off nearly dropping the poor mite and had seemed to pose a threat to her well-being through sheer ignorance, but was proving more and more to have her best interests at heart. The strange ways in which this caring cropped up were only adding to the endearing factor, and Kurogane found himself smiling faintly as he took in the calm, relaxed face below him.

He hesitated a moment before moving to wake the man, thinking that if Fai was an insomniac it might be doing him an injury to disturb any rest he was managing to get even if it was on the floor. He was also sorely tempted to choose this path of least effort from a simple desire to go back to sleep, but leaving his host snoozing away on the carpet didn't quite sit right with him and so Kurogane reached down and picked up one of the pillows, then promptly smacked that fair head with it.

His notions of politeness and propriety only stretched so far.

"Mmph!" Fai was scrabbling at the feather-fattened sack immediately, looking around in confusion with his eyes barely open. "Huh? What?"

"If you _are_ going to sleep after all, do it in a bed like a normal person," Kurogane recommended, his voice as dry as it could get at such a low volume. When he saw the other man groggily sit up and rub at sleep-grainy eyes like a child, he gave in to the siren song of his warm spot on the mattress and crawled back to it, trusting Fai to be able to find his way to the door. His trust in the hotelier's abilities were likely not misplaced, but his trust of the man's decision making skills turned out to be so. No sooner had he laid himself back down than the mattress dipped under another weight, and just as he came up on one elbow to confirm with his eyes what his brain was protesting as impossible because _come on_ , a long, lean figure wormed its way into the space left between him and the infant.

"I meant in your _own_ bed," Kurogane clarified as acidly as possible. Which was not very acidly at all, given his drowsy state and how distracted he was trying not to be by all the signals his nerve endings were sending back to his brain. A faint warmth, the irregular ridges of cable-knitting on Fai's sweater catching slightly at his t-shirt in passing, a sock-clad foot investigating the space between his ankles; he felt it all as distinctly as if he had no clothes of his own getting in the way...and that was _not_ a mental image he needed at the moment.

Fai sleepily shushed him while spooning cozily into the tense curve of the taller's form with a languid squirm, which just made Kurogane growl and clench his hands - one into the sheets while trapped under a slim neck, the other floating in the air by a dark blue wool-clad shoulder with nowhere to land - into tight fists. His free-floating hand caught the blond's attention after a moment, and after making an interrogatory noise Fai reached up and tried tugging tanned fingers closer as if he were hoping to use the arm they were attached to as a blanket or shawl. Kurogane snatched his hand away as if burned by the contact.

"What do you think you're doing?" The question was ground out slowly, and the bits and pieces of chewed-up sentence seemed to fall down the neck of Fai's sweater and tickle him, because he shook faintly with laughter.

"Trying out this sleeping thing," came the rather groggy sounding response. A pale hand came up again to try and nab Kurogane's free hand for another tugging attempt.

"Quit that," Kurogane ordered, yanking his hand out of reach and then using it to jab his unwanted bedmate in the side. The whiny "ow" he got was mildly satisfying. "And you are _not_ sleeping here."

"No sleeping?" Fai queried, sounding somewhat more awake now. He turned his head to gaze up at the other man over one shoulder, a smile teasing at his lips. "You want to talk some more instead?"

"No."

"So let's sleep."

"Seriously, what the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to sleep, silly bear. Also flirting a little," the blond replied matter-of-factly before breaking into a big yawn, and the simplicity of the answer brought Kurogane up short. Surprise and confusion nudged ire aside, and the shopkeeper faltered a bit at receiving honesty instead of some outrageous excuse or attempt to deflect. Finding a safe place for his hand to rest bought him a bit of processing time, and when he finally settled for just draping it along his own side, he had his thoughts marshaled.

"I thought I'd made myself clear," he began, but Fai mm-hmm'd and cut in before he got the rest of his sentence out.

"You did. You don't want to start something doomed to be temporary."

"And yet here you are..." Kurogane prompted, frowning down in confusion.

"Because after some consideration, I have decided that you, my dear grizzly bear, made a serious tactical error."

"Allowing you to set foot in my store?"

"Nope," Fai replied with a brief, airy laugh and a little squirm that Kurogane felt along every inch of his body. "Refusing to let my misunderstanding stand. You should have let it be, or even told me flat out that you're not interested in me at all. But you started that 'something' that you didn't want to start when you admitted that you _are_ interested."

That silenced Kurogane, at least for a moment. It would be ridiculous to deny that there was in fact something between them already. He'd said it himself, and Fai had just confirmed it. There was interest.

Just because the blond was willing to pursue it didn't alter basic facts, however.

"It doesn't change anything," Kurogane said, voice still low to keep from knocking the sleep dust off of the baby. Or perhaps to hide the disappointment that he couldn't keep from creeping into his throat when he thought of the future together that didn't exist for the three people currently sharing the bed. He could make decisions all he wanted but the inclinations and _want_ weren't put aside so easily.

"Of course it does," came the blithe response. The other man was still speaking in that low, languid murmur, as easily as if they weren't arguing at all. "It already has. As you said...here I am."

"It still isn't going to _become_ anything...anything more, anything lasting," the dark-haired man clarified, words coming out crisper now, with frustration creeping audibly into his voice. There was no laugh this time, no subtle snuggling shift of that lithe body curled against him. Fai hadn't been wriggling incessantly or anything before, but Kurogane suddenly noticed that he'd fallen still.

Only briefly, however, and in the next breath Fai was wriggling and turning over, making the dark-haired man straighten up further on the elbow he was propping himself up with as he found himself face to face with the blond. He went a bit wide-eyed and prepared to fling himself backwards off of the bed, having little to no confidence any longer that he could predict how the other man would act or react.

"Your parents," Fai began, voice gone serious and barely visible face following suit. "Have you ever thought that they made a mistake chasing after their dream, considering your mother's health? They might still be alive today if they'd just settled in the suburbs and settled for a goldfish instead of going for a cabin and kids, after all."

Kurogane didn't answer at first; only bit the fingers of his free hand into his sweatpants and clenched his jaw to stifle his first reaction. Insult, anger, something very near _rage_ welled up in his chest and stuck in his throat that someone should question his parents' devotion to their dream, which had been part of what made them so admirable and good despite how tragically it had ended. But Fai hadn't actually questioned it; only asked if Kurogane ever had, and so the dark-haired man slowly unclenched jaw and fists and took in a careful breath to reply.

"No. Just because it ended too soon doesn't mean it was wrong. They were happy, pursuing their dreams."

"Because it was fate, right? Because it was love at first sight and they'd never had any other options?"

"What? No, it wasn't anything as stupid as that," Kurogane replied, growling in a much more casual confusion now instead of his voice coming out tight and taut and ready to snap. "Where'd you get that from?"

Fai only smiled at first, contributing to the diffusion of tension in the darkness. He'd apparently only been teasing with the fate and first sight comments, and was satisfied with the taller's response.

"So why is it such a bad idea to see where this goes, like they did?" Fai asked, the smile now reaching to his voice though he still sounded sober and serious. "Where it _could_ go? Maybe it'll end too soon. Or...maybe it won't. Maybe you'll buy me a goldfish someday."

A pregnant pause followed, broken only by a faint sputter which soon revved up into proper speech.

"You just _met_ me," Kurogane protested, as soon as he could find his voice. He seemed to only get a clumsy grip on it and the words came out a little strangled. "How do you get from 'good afternoon' to...to... _goldfish_ in half a day?"

"I didn't say I'd fallen madly in love with you already and wanted to get married in the morning," Fai responded, mouth open as if to burst out laughing but only a breathy little thing escaping. "I'm just saying that you seem like someone I _could_ fall madly in love with someday, and that's just too good a thing to pass up."

The hotelier's candidate for possible soulmate just stared down, eyes wide and mind a jumble of confused thoughts from which nothing useful was issuing forth. The main problem lay in the fact that he kept trying to make sense of what the blond was saying, and it was just impossible to reconcile his convictions and these not-so-simple facts. Or rather his logic and Fai's own special brand of it. No, it was not in fact impossible that he and this stranger had the potential to become something. After all, his parents had been strangers the day they'd met too, and look at what had happened there. But the circumstances and people and just everything involved seemed too different and incompatible and complicated.

"I don't _know_ you," Kurogane finally said, sounding plaintively confused where he'd meant to be rational and stern. Seriously, who talked like this? Who _thought_ like this?!

"Of course you don't," came the unexpectedly logical response, accompanied by an even more unexpected smile, affectionate and warm and as delighted as if Kurogane had quite happily agreed to fling himself headlong off a cliff into fathomless love. "We only just met today."

"So..." Kurogane trailed off without knowing where to go next, wondering if - almost hoping - he was having a really, really strange dream, and struggling with the impulse to give the blond a good thwack upside the head in retaliation for the headache he was getting from this conversation.

"So," Fai mimicked, and then elaborated on next steps with, "I want you to get to know me."

Several seconds ticked softly by, during which they just watched each other, Kurogane warily and Fai expectantly. The room was dark, but the light from the hallway was enough to see expressions by, especially at this close range. Amusement and cheerful confidence soon faded away from the pale face turned up toward him, succeeded by something like wistful worry. Fai's well of patience seemed to run dry before Kurogane had gotten his brain untangled, and the silence was broken by a barely audible murmur.

"There's something about me," the blond suggested hesitantly, "that makes you certain already that you could never seriously care for me?"

It was a golden opportunity to shut things down, but like he had with the question of whether or not he was interested, the dark-haired man let the opening slip by without even glancing toward it. He was shaking his head slowly before he'd really thought it through. It was possible, of course, that they were utterly incompatible and doomed to be unable to nurture a healthy romance no matter how much effort was thrown into it. As mentioned already, he didn't really know the man. Fai could prove to be perfect in all ways except that he had a penchant for kidnapping pretty young things and pickling their eyeballs in his basement. His idea of fun potentially involved cans of gasoline and a box of matches. He might try to make Kurogane switch to Miracle Whip.

Could, might, maybe, possibly. But Kurogane hadn't yet discovered anything for certain about the man that he could hold up as incontrovertible proof that they were most definitely incompatible. Even the hotelier's general family history and background were now faded into nothing more than points of curiosity in the face of how he actually conducted himself.

Fai waited a while for something more than just a head-shake, eventually nestling down onto the sheets - and resting his head against Kurogane's forearm again - to wait in a more comfortable attitude. Blue eyes shaded to inky darkness in the barely lit room would drift this way and that now and again, but they always returned to look hopefully up at the other man. Sometimes Kurogane got a faint smile, sometimes a quick quirk of slender eyebrows.

"Um," he said intelligently, and then had to stop and gather up a few of his wits so that he could try to inject some reason into this romantic tangle. "Look, say we start something...you don't even live around here."

"I'll visit," Fai said immediately, chirking up noticeably at this small concession the other man was making, of speaking about a relationship between them as a hypothetical matter instead of an impossible one. "And we can chat and talk on the phone and text and email. We can even exchange handwritten letters if you want."

Kurogane snorted at this last offer. "All right, so we get to know each other, and then what? If we never break it off, then...well, then we're together, and long-distance is going to get stupid after a while." And frustrating. Very, very frustrating.

"Can we discuss crossing that bridge once we're a few miles away from it?" Fai asked with a soft chuckle and a plaintive quirk of his eyebrows. "You haven't even agreed to get in the car, much less go on the road trip with me."

"I'm not getting in a car and going on a road trip that ends at a 'bridge out' sign," Kurogane retorted.

He got a pouty huff and then a playful grin as his reward for going along with the metaphor, but just as he felt wry amusement at how being off-balance was turning out to be an around-the-clock matter when in Fai's company, the hotelier said something that wiped the faint smirk right off of Kurogane's face.

"Well then, maybe the bridge leads to my place," the blond suggested, ducking his head while snuggling contentedly closer. "We've got plenty of room and you can finally see your favorite blue; play in the surf instead of holing up in your cabin-cave."

Kurogane frowned, but his bedmate was finding something interesting about the collar of his t-shirt and the expression was wasted.

"Confident, aren't you?" he asked, a feeling like insult at the implication that his life was so easily set aside making his tone harsh, though he still kept his voice down. Startling the infant awake and making her cry would just put the nail in his mood-coffin, though he couldn't help but continue expressing thoughts not exactly calibrated for a calm and cozy conversation. "You think I'll throw away everything I've worked for so far, everything my parents dreamed of, just to go play house with you?"

He had a place to direct his glare now, as Fai lifted his head to blink at him in surprise. The blond even flinched back a bit while shaking his head.

"I didn't mean..." Fai began, but then stopped, pressing his lips together while looking searchingly up at his suddenly growly-again companion. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper that spoke more of being afraid of Kurogane's reaction than of disturbing the baby.

"Your parents are gone," the blond said softly. "I just thought you might someday be ready to live your own life, not theirs."

There might have been reasonable deductions and wisdom born of experience behind the statement, not just a stranger's skewed perspective, but Kurogane had only just begun skirting around the idea himself that his life had been shaped too much by the loss of his family. He certainly hadn't faced the logical conclusion yet, of re-shaping his life around his own desires. He most definitely wasn't ready to hear it from this walking talking catalyst for upheaval of said life, and so his instinctive reaction was defensive in the extreme; a snarl, a swipe and a warning growl to keep away.

"This _is_ my life," Kurogane said sharply, dark eyes narrowed under a deepening frown, leaning in as he spoke to close the already insignificant distance between them. As soon as the words were out, he pushed off of the mattress and sat up, dislodging Fai none too gently and making the hotelier scramble up as well. Beyond him, the baby stirred at the sudden movement and increase in noise, but Kurogane was past caring about disturbing her just now. His patience and reason got tangled up in offense and a sort of vulnerability, and he was suddenly fed up with the invasions into his personal life; tired of feeling so out of his comfort zone, angry at how this stranger could make his life seem unsatisfactory just by stepping into it, wanting nothing more than to recapture the sense of control he'd once had over his own life even if it had been mere illusion. One hand shot out and grabbed at a slender arm, assisting - or perhaps "hustling" was a better word - the blond off the bed and toward the door.

"Where do you get off telling me I'm not making my own choices? How do you even know what I want out of life? And don't bring my parents into this. I told you one bedtime story and you think you know--"

"No, that's not it. I don't think--," Fai protested, cutting in to the hissed tirade and then cutting himself off as he tripped over the blankets and pillows he'd laid out on the floor earlier. He recovered his voice sooner than his footing, lifting his head up to speak while letting the taller half-hold him up. "I wasn't trying to tell you you were _wrong_. It's just that I, that _we_...Yuui and I--"

"Just stop," Kurogane demanded, interrupting right back as he managed to keep the stumbling man on his feet. They faltered to a halt just before the door, and when Kurogane let go of Fai's arm, the hotelier stumbled back a bit as if he'd been relying on the other man to keep him steady. Or had been trying to get away and was taken by surprise at being suddenly released.

"It's late," Kurogane said with a sigh, anger guttering out as quickly as it had flared up, more spark than heat from the beginning and with nothing solid behind it to keep it fueled. "I'm tired, you're making my head hurt and I don't want to talk anymore. You are _exhausting_ , all right? Go away and let me sleep."

Fai looked as if he would have complied, pressing his lips together into a thin, unhappy line while rubbing his arm where he'd been manhandled, but both men stilled and looked back toward the bed as a faint noise caught their attention.

" _fffwrawh,_ " the baby complained, and then began crying.

"Of course," Kurogane said dryly, and then frowned as Fai immediately padded over to the infant. "I got it," he mentioned, but the blond did not stop moving until he'd regained his former seat on the bed. He only lingered a moment, kneeling down to scoop the wailing infant up and settle her against his chest. Once that was done, he wriggled off of the mattress and started back toward the door, this time of his own volition.

Fai rather looked as if he would have tried to flee, but Kurogane had unthinkingly blocked the doorway and the blond was apparently not equal to trying to shove, slide or smile his way past the man. His steps slowed as they drew nearer, and when the shopkeeper did not immediately step aside ( _already regretting his outburst but prickly pride keeping him from apologizing so soon and something else preventing him from letting the other man escape just yet_ ) Fai started attempting to soothe the fussing infant where he stood. He bounced lightly on his feet, shifting his weight from side to side and keeping up a rhythmic patting of the baby's back.

She seemed more upset than hungry or uncomfortable - perhaps from being woken up by the sound of less than happy voices - and the soothing soon had her winding down into grumpy little mews and awrs though she did not settle down completely. As Kurogane watched the both of them, the infant began finding ways to entertain herself, gumming one of her own fists or peering into the darkness around her with wobbly lifts of her head. Once the noise level in the room had lowered again, Fai met the even stare being leveled at him and spoke, straightening up slightly as if gearing up to fight or flee.

"I want to say something," he stated quietly. Kurogane cocked an eyebrow at this, finding it to be just as redundant as the query of "can I ask you a question?"

"So say it," the shopkeeper replied, still blocking the doorway and trying to figure out what he himself wanted most to communicate.

"I want to say something without you jumping down my throat and trying to rip my lungs out," Fai clarified, and this time he got a snort and a twist of the mouth which was something in between an amused smile and a regretful wince.

"Just spit it out," sighed the sometimes - _ofttimes_ \- unfortunately tetchy man.

This was far from agreement or even a concession, but Fai gamely went on, perhaps taking courage from the idea that he was not likely to suffer a mauling while holding a baby.

"What I was trying to say," the hotelier began, the words coming out evenly but more slowly than his usual rapid-fire chatter, "was that that your parents' dream was beautiful and right and good, but I was thinking it was _their_ dream. For themselves. Not you." Blue eyes were fixed on the taller man, watchful and waiting, and when this opinion did not drawn out any new explosions Fai continued explaining himself.

"Your store - your _home_ \- is full of memories and reminders of what good people your mother and father were, and anyone would want to keep something like that alive. But your parents' dream wasn't simply to have that store, was it? It was to have a good, safe place to raise their children into healthy, happy people and let them have their _own_ dreams."

Fai paused again and this time waited, and when Kurogane found that he was expected to reply, he simply nodded. He'd never heard such declarations from his parents per se, but he'd grown up knowing that their wish, distilled down into its simplest form, was for him to be happy. Someday taking on the management of the shop from his father had of course been an option but he hadn't been burdened with any heavy expectations regarding it. His parents had left ambition and passion to time and his natural inclinations and only done their best to instill values and good work ethics into him, so that when he did find a dream to chase he'd be well equipped to run after it.

When nothing further was forthcoming beyond this one nod, Fai nodded himself and then spoke again.

"So...instead of doing what your parents wanted to do," the hotelier murmured, still slightly hesitant, "you could do what your parents would have wanted _you_ to do."

"...and in hindsight, what you want to do may be exactly what you're already doing," Fai added with greater rapidity and an uncomfortable shrug of the shoulder not currently being drooled on. "I got a little stuck on the idea that you wanted to see the ocean."

The soft voice trailed off and made no immediate reappearance, though Fai looked as though there was more he wished to say and perhaps only feared to say too much. There might have been an apology lurking in his chest for speaking a bit too casually and cheerfully on such a sensitive subject, or a long explanation to give on all the varied motivations he had for not letting sleeping bears lie. Thin lips actually parted as if for speech a time or two, but soon fell shut again to curve into a faint smile. It was a little apologetic, a little rueful, and combined with the look in those blue eyes more than just a little hopeful and making Kurogane wonder at himself for wanting to answer it so very badly.

First things first, however. He wanted to clarify a few points before moving on to other matters. There were various similes applicable to what he was doing; wiping dust off a table before setting out a meal, erasing a mistake before rewriting a line, cleaning up before moving out. He was preparing to open the metaphorical car door so that he could go on the road trip he'd received an unexpected invitation for, though he hadn't quite realized it yet.

"I haven't been _holing up in a cave_ ," he said, and pointedly, but his tone had come down several notches from the affronted anger of before.

"Poor choice of words on my part," Fai conceded immediately.

Kurogane continued, after a brief pause to nod acknowledgement and acceptance.

"My parents wouldn't have been disappointed to know that I kept up the home and business they worked so hard for," he stated, and Fai nodded in turn, all attentiveness and agreement. "I don't regret the choices I've made and I'm not unhappy with my life. It's a good one. I'm serving a purpose."

That fair head nodded again and then Kurogane let the next pause stretch out for a while as he considered all that he'd said and what remained unspoken. The possibilities stretched from apology and agreement to a cold cutting-off of possibilities, but the extremes did not suit his personality or his feelings.

"I do want to see the ocean someday," he finally admitted, the words released unwillingly as if he were confessing to something far more dark and dire. It was a ridiculously simple statement, perfectly innocent and unremarkable, and yet something about the admission felt almost dangerous ( _too much potential opening up on the horizon that had always seemed so fixed and focused before_ ) when made in the blond's presence. Fai's reaction to this confession was to straighten up slightly with an expression of delight, and when the hotelier took a quick breath and opened his mouth, Kurogane quickly cut the other man off with a clarification.

" _See it someday_ ," the taller said emphatically, "not put my place up for sale tomorrow and move in with you so I can play in the water all year long."

Fai hadn't shut his lips even when interrupted, and at this he laughed softly and grinned up at the dark-haired man, all sparkling eyes and pearly teeth and long arms wrapped snugly around the infant making it look like he was hugging himself in delight.

"I was just going to suggest that we could both get what we want without much trouble," the blond said airily, and if not for the sly little quirk at one corner of his mouth Kurogane might have believed him. "We get to know each other, which is what I want, and you could eventually come visit me and see the ocean, which is what you want." Kurogane didn't respond right away, and Fai's voice took on a sweetly wheedling tone when he spoke again.

"Oh come on, you can agree to at least that much," the blond pressed. "No crazy promises, no 'for sale' signs, no goldfish. Just give me a chance. And yourself a vacation."

Put that way, the proposal sounded so reasonable - either that or he was much more tired than he realized - that Kurogane found himself giving in, though in his own rather ungracious way.

"You're not going to let this go until I say yes, are you?" he asked in resignation.

"Ding ding ding," Fai chimed cheerfully, which the taller interpreted as a signal that he'd guessed correctly.

"Fine," Kurogane sighed, and then eyed Fai with amused exasperation as the other man gave a quiet cheer and danced the baby around in a celebratory twirl.

"Yes, yay, now get out," the dark-haired man growled, stepping forward to reach for the baby. She was still awake but rather heavy-eyed instead of snuffling around alertly for food, and he thought he might be able to get her to go back down for the remainder of their interrupted nap. She was relinquished without any fuss, but Kurogane found a blond satellite hovering in close orbit as he knelt on the bed and carefully set her back down on the sheets. Little arms flapped a bit even though he tried lowering her slowly enough to prevent her from feeling as if she was falling, and so he planted his hand over her stomach and gave her a few firm pats and a little jiggle.

Just as he sat down, the mattress dipped under an additional weight, and Kurogane turned with a short sigh to find Fai once again on the bed.

"Is there room for one and a half Goldilockses on Papa Bear's bed?" the blond asked hopefully.

"No," Kurogane replied firmly. He'd only agreed to get to know the man with an eye toward deciding whether or not they could become something, and in his book - and he hoped the book of every sane person; a demographic that obviously did not include the hotelier - that excluded sleeping together. Even if it was _just_ sleeping together.

He got a pout that seemed to involve at least half the blond's body; that fair head tipped to the side, thin lips pouted out and seemed to draw all the chipper cheer right out of the face they were attached to, slender shoulders slumped down while the hotelier's spine seemed to crumble in disappointment, and pale hands clasped together over one knee as if seeking mutual solace in an embrace.

"Aw? Why?"

"Wh--" The taller choked on his incredulous repetition of the simple question, finding it not quite so simple a thing to explain because it seemed so obvious. He didn't know _why_ two plus two equaled four; it just did and everyone was supposed to know this, and he shouldn't have to explain _why_ a man wouldn't be allowed as a matter of course to bed-share with someone he'd just met that afternoon. After a short sputter Kurogane just blurted out something spawned more from honesty than logic.

"Look, so far we've just _talked_ and I feel like my head's going to explode. You mess with me just by being in the same room," he confessed. Thinking all of a sudden that statements such as these would only bring on fresh arguments or appeals, he made a request of his own. "Just leave me some space until I get my brain wrapped around all this, all right?"

Hope of having succeeded was sustained for a few moments as Fai just stared at him, straightened up from his woeful slouch and his expression smoothed out into something thoughtful instead of dramatic. And then hopeful anticipation turned right into a tangled ball of _what?_ as the blond grinned cheekily.

"You're terrible at this, you know that."

"The hell?" Kurogane asked, half plaintively perplexed, half straight-up annoyed. "Terrible at what?"

" _This._ " A slender finger was flicked quickly back and forth between the two men, and then Fai elaborated on his comment. "If you really want to keep me at a distance you shouldn't be telling me how to get to you, oh bear of little-to-no relationship strategy."

"Excuse me for being terrible at something I've got no experience in," he huffed in offense, the words tumbling out before he could do a mental review and edit.

"...what?" The grin had fallen off the blond's face and blue eyes were now fixed on him in surprise instead of amusement. The shopkeeper sighed again, but this time at his malfunctioning mouth filter. He tried to think of something to say that might end the conversation immediately and get the other man out of the room, but ended up without any other options than getting through this new segment of their chat as best he could and then demanding solitude at its conclusion.

"This," Kurogane said with a slightly uncomfortable shrug, defaulting to Fai's expression because he was unable to hit upon a good word for...well, whatever it was that was taking shape between them. He mimicked the little finger-flicking gesture that Fai had made a moment ago as well. "I dated a little when I was younger but by the time I was old enough for anything serious..." His family had died and he'd locked himself into the solitary, shut-in, shutting-out existence that Fai had dropped into like a lit stick of dynamite with a three millimeter fuse. He trailed off, not knowing how to end the sentence and feeling, anyway, that he didn't need to. Those blue eyes were fixed on him and expressing understanding now, not confusion.

There was also a healthy dollop of curiosity, which Fai soon indulged.

"When you say 'dated'," the blond prompted.

"Typical kid stuff I guess," Kurogane replied. "See a movie, hang out at shops, stuff like that." His first romance had in fact been a brief schoolyard fling, impelled more by the clamorous encouragement of mutual friends rather than any real love budding in scrawny little chests. Subsequent entanglements had been a little more adventurous, a little more passionate, but still probably rather pale and pristine compared to most adults' romantic histories. He really didn't want to go into too many details, of which he suddenly felt he had too few of, and when Fai opened his mouth for another question Kurogane cut him off.

"Can we have the rest of this conversation tomorrow?" he asked, in a tone that could have been pleading if it hadn't been delivered in such a deep growl. "I'll get to know you, I'll let you get to know me, but right now you need to let me get some _sleep_."

Just as he finished speaking, little tremors spreading across the mattress caught at his attention, and he cut his eyes over to the infant. Instead of falling asleep once she was left to her own devices, the little girl had become more active and was now kicking like an over-caffeinated frog while gnawing on her fists and peering wide-eyed into the dimness.

"Really?" Kurogane asked her, tone expressing resignation at the sleep-deprived fate he had apparently been assigned.

"Is she hungry again?" Fai asked, crawling up further onto the bed to hover over her. One slender hand came up to give the rotund little tummy a brief tickle, and the infant responded by flapping her arms and gurgling happily.

"No, she just wants to play," Kurogane answered, absently tapping a finger into a drool-damp palm and engaging in a quick game of tug-of-war with the baby. "Want to take her for me? She'll either tucker herself out or want to eat again soon, most likely. You can wake me up if you need help."

"Will do," the blond singsonged easily, carefully scooping up his wriggly, squirmy little charge - with a little oof as he took a foot to the ribs - and then straightening up so that he could begin scooting toward the edge of the mattress.

The key to kicking Fai out of his room seemed to be letting the man hold the baby. The hotelier had attempted to escape with the child once before but Kurogane had been blocking his escape route. Now that the taller was out of the way - and Fai had wrangled a concession from him, not just the infant - the blond departed with not a single fuss or bother, only pausing in the doorway to call out a cheerful goodnight while making the baby wave a dimpled hand.

Kurogane gave the gaped-open door a light shove to close it most of the way and then turned back to the room that was now his alone. He climbed immediately back onto the bed, resolutely ignoring the feeling that the mattress wasn't quite so comfortable as when it had been graced with a little pink and white dollop of humanity. Be that as it might, he was still tired enough that he fell asleep fairly quickly, undisturbed by any new baby care emergencies or ridiculous notions of what constituted fun in the mind of a Fluorite.

On his side, facing away from the bedside table, he had no way of knowing when he awoke what time it was or how long he'd been asleep. He hadn't moved from his original position, which was as usual, and he hadn't dreamt of tiny little wails turning into piercing shrieks, which was unusual. It was possible that he simply hadn't slept long enough to fall into that deep, dark dreaming state where a particular nightmare was always waiting to ensnare and torment him. It was also possible that he had been asleep for hours, and that the warm, cotton-clad mite now tucked along his chest and cradled protectively by his arm had acted as a charm against ill dreams bred by painful memories. Both possibilities made sense, and he didn't waste any time pondering which might be true.

The fact that Fai was curled up on the other side of the mattress, snoozing away, didn't cause much more than an eyebrow twitch. The man was just weird, and Kurogane was getting accustomed to this fact through (over)exposure.

Kurogane took the materialization of two blonds in his bed with reasonable aplomb, considering the circumstances. If nothing else had caught his notice, he would have given a mental shrug and gone back to sleep. He was thrown for a loop, however, when he noticed that he'd apparently been holding Fai's hand while sleeping.


	9. Kurogane talks about Tomoyo

After playing some scenarios out in his head - giving Fai's forehead a hard flick had been the most tempting but he hadn't been able to declare to himself with one hundred percent certainty that it was entirely the blond's fault that their hands were entwined - Kurogane wormed his fingers free by careful increments and then tucked them close by the infant for safekeeping. Neither of the blonds stirred, and the shopkeeper sleepily eyed the tiniest occupant of the bed, trying to impartially judge between the wisdom of waking her for a diaper change or the practicality of rejoining the others in peaceful slumber.

His sense of responsibility argued that frequent changings were necessary to keep delicate skin from developing painful rashes, and that it would be polite in him - a guest - to ensure that Fai's very likely expensive linens remained free of damp patches from overloaded diapers. Pragmatism argued back that it wasn't likely that they'd been asleep for all that long and that the if the little girl was sleeping so contentedly she probably wasn't uncomfortably wet. A glance over at Fai's slumbering form also brought to mind again the thought that he ought not to disturb an insomniac's rest, and all Kurogane's mental struggles ended in his drifting off again while wondering at how long the blond's lashes were.

He woke again to the sound of huffy little breaths sucked in between wet lips and moved quickly even while still half-asleep. Before the baby could break into outright cries Kurogane felt for the edge of the bed, rolled quickly out of it and turned around again to face the mattress and its remaining occupants. At that point he actually opened his eyes all the way and experienced a split second of surprise as he blinked at the two blonds in the bed. ( _Not his own bed, not his own room, certainly a sweet little baby girl but all rosy cheeks and strawberry blond curls instead of thick black hair and porcelain skin_ ) He'd been moving on instinct rather than conscious decision, and his brain hadn't quite settled back into the where and when quite yet. Or the who.

A second look was enough to remind him of yesterday's events in a big jumble of emotion and impression and relief-unease that it hadn't been a strange dream after all, and then Kurogane shook it off and bent to scoop up the squirming infant. She let out a warble but Fai, who had no Pavlovian responses to needy babies drilled into him, didn't stir. Kurogane hastily grabbed a diaper and a box of wipes and then left the bedroom before the second blond woke up. The baby was definitely upset about something and despite being cradled and cuddled, kept turning up the volume on her cries.

A bath towel purloined from the linen closet in the hallway and bit of floor in the living room served perfectly well as a changing pad, and the little girl quieted somewhat once she was nice and dry again. Kurogane left her kicking and burbling on the carpet while he tossed the weighty diaper and washed up, then made his way to the kitchen instead of returning immediately to the infant.

She didn't seem to think much of being left alone to amuse herself, and made her displeasure known after a minute or two by awwring loudly. When her voice ratcheted up a couple of notches, Kurogane leaned out of the kitchen area and fixed her with a look.

"Oi."

" _ahm!_ " She startled and immediately looked toward him, then flapped her arms happily.

He smiled despite himself and then ducked back into the kitchen to once more check the temperature of the water he had heating on the stove, listening meanwhile to the little vocalizations coming from the living room. He poked his head out from around a corner at intervals to give her a look and a word or two, and this seemed to be enough to keep her from getting too frustrated. When the water seemed almost hot enough, he took another peek into the living room.

"Pipe down, Princess," he told the infant, who was growing increasingly strident in her demands for attention.

" _ah? amya!_ " Blue eyes gazed at him intently, and he thought he could read a little consternation in the wrinkle between her nearly invisible little eyebrows.

"Breakfast is happening," he promised, and disappeared again.

Measuring out formula and water and swishing the bottle carefully around in the saucepan took a bit of time, but the steady stream of mews and mwars from around the dividing wall were reassuring. He took a moment to be grateful for the fact that his host didn't have a pack of slobbering dogs obsessed with chewing everything in sight. The baby's lack of mobility was also a relief. Without any highchairs, playpens or activity saucers to hand, getting anything done while the infant was awake would have been a two-person or one-handed job if she'd been of an age to crawl around and get into trouble.

As he put together the bottle and then shook out a few droplets onto his wrist, he tipped his head and curiously listened to the babbles coming from the living room. The baby sounded quite happy now, burbling and cooing contentedly instead of fussing for attention. Figuring that she'd discovered that she had toes or something along those lines, he stayed in the kitchen instead of hurrying out, making sure he'd turned off the stove and tidying up the few things he'd disturbed.

He discovered the reason for the little girl's contentment as soon as he stepped back out into the living room with the bottle. Fai was curled up on the floor next to her - almost _around_ her with his long legs crooked up and one arm splayed out across the carpet - and gently tickling her, slender fingers delicately moving their way across her stomach as if picking out a melody on unseen strings. Judging from the ridiculous bird's nest his hair was, he'd rolled out of bed and immediately gone searching for his missing bedmates. The dark blue flannel pajamas he'd changed into some time last night before invading his guest's bed were still on as well. He seemed half-asleep and probably had heinous morning breath, but the baby didn't seem to mind at all. She kicked and squealed, probably more tickled by the attention than the actual touches, and the smile on Fai's face was hardly less pleased than hers.

It was a charming sight, and though Kurogane wasn't quite ready to admit to the actual ratio of charm for him between the blond and the baby, it was enough to keep him from interrupting right away. Fai noticed him after just a few seconds, however, and announced breakfast to the infant.

"Looks like it's milk time, Little Kitty," he chirped, and sat up after leaning down to give her a noisy kiss on the cheek. He gathered her up and Kurogane stepped over to hand off the bottle, but Fai shook his head.

"Why don't you feed her, and I'll make us breakfast?" the blond offered, and as Kurogane saw absolutely nothing wrong with the suggestion he was soon planted on the floor with a baby and bottle. His host disappeared upstairs for a bit and then came pattering back down - still in pajamas but with hair silky-smooth again - and began puttering about in the kitchen.

"What do you want to eat?" a cheery voice called out.

"Doesn't matter," Kurogane replied somewhat absently, squinting at the infant to make sure she was latched on properly. He didn't particularly want to experience her spit-up abilities first hand, and letting her suck down as much air as formula was one surefire way to make it happen.

"Oh come on," Fai said laughingly, poking his head around a corner. "You must have some sort of preference. Chopped broccoli and mango with a cup of water, French toast and sausages with a mug of warm milk, half a deer and some water from the stream out back...?"

"Something simple and not stupid," Kurogane replied, lifting his head so that he could give Fai a not very patient look. "Eggs and toast or something like that. No milk. Doesn't agree with me."

"Lactose intolerant, got it," Fai noted. "So, eggs...how many and how? I can do scrambled, sunny side up, over easy, over medium, fake-over steam-fried, poached, hard boiled, soft boiled, oh! I can do a fluffy omelette where I whip the whites separately from the yolks so that--"

"Three eggs, scrambled, soy sauce if you have it, salt and pepper if you don't, two slices of white or wheat lightly toasted, plain," Kurogane interrupted, adding in enough details to hopefully shut the overanxious chef up. Politely refusing to make too many nit-picky demands of his host was obviously not the most efficient route here; Fai would end up grilling him on preferences and giving him options until breakfast became lunch.

"Black coffee?"

"Yes."

Fai disappeared back into the kitchen and Kurogane heaved a sigh of relief. He glanced down at the baby in the crook of his arm to find her still busily working away at her bottle, unperturbed by the insanity of one of her nannies. Silence settled around the two in the living room, a comfortable type made up of harmonious little noises weaving together to make something soothing; quiet clatter from the kitchen, the steady fizz of bubbles rising through the formula and muffled clicks as the baby drank, and behind it all, the storm. Thick walls and well-insulated windows dampened the sound of the wind lashing at the building so that it lost almost all its power to awe and merely became a pleasant counterpoint to the comfort of the cabin. Something to enhance the pleasant warmth, not take anything away from it.

A glance toward one of the windows showed him nothing but darkness and pale flurries catching the light from within, but lack of sunlight wasn't much of an indicator of time when one was in the middle of a blizzard so Kurogane cast about for a clock. From where he was sitting, he couldn't get a good line of sight to the one in a nearby bookshelf. It occurred to him to get up and go look, but another moment of consideration had him deciding to stay put. They had nowhere to be until the storm blew over, and as for sleeping and waking, they were on the baby's timetable, not their own. He had to actually talk himself into it, but soon enough Kurogane made a conscious decision to let his usually rigid schedule slide while he was on this odd "vacation".

The low burble of formula being guzzled suddenly cut off, replaced by hollow smacks, and the shopkeeper quickly looked back down at his armful. He eased the nipple away and after a brief fuss the baby seemed to accept that breakfast was over. Kurogane repositioned the infant against his chest, cradling her carefully as he stood up. After a quick side trip to the linen closet for a hand towel to throw over his shoulder in lieu of an actual burp cloth, he made his way to the kitchen where he was greeted with a bright smile.

The blond looked a bit more awake now - and good thing, too, since he was working over a hot stove - though not back up to what Kurogane thought was his usual level of energy, and the shopkeeper nodded back as he walked to the sink. Once there, he leaned back a bit to make sure the little girl stayed plastered against him as he dropped the hand he had on her back so that he could unscrew the bottle. Formula didn't sour as quickly as milk, but it certainly didn't improve with time, and he wanted to at least rinse the thing out before it got crusty.

"Here, let me," Fai said, hurrying over to assist. He looked worried rather than anxious to please, and his eyes were on the baby.

"I've got her," Kurogane insisted, though at the moment she simply had her diapered rear perched on his forearm, with little more than gravity and inertia keeping her slumped against his torso. He had confidence in his reflexes, but Fai apparently did not. The blond put a steadying hand on the baby and grabbed the bottle with his other hand, and refused to move until Kurogane was cradling the infant to his satisfaction once more.

Kurogane cuddled her close and began burping her in a somewhat mechanical manner while staring at Fai's chest.

"...why are you wearing a Hello Kitty apron?"

He got a little fashion-show flourish and a resurgence of smiles.

"Isn't it cute?" Fai asked, and against all odds Kurogane found himself agreeing, at least within the privacy of his own thoughts. The simple white apron with the pink candy-striped strings and cartoon cat with a glittery bow on its head suited the blond perfectly for some godawful reason. It was, in fact, cute on him and made Kurogane want to smack his head against the nearest cabinet for thinking so.

The baby saved Kurogane from having to answer directly by letting out a sharp _braaap_ over his shoulder.

"I'm with her," he said and turned away, shaking his head while meandering about the island and continuing to pat the infant on the back, just in case there were more air bubbles lurking in her stomach. Thankfully the toaster popped just then, drawing Fai's attention away, and Kurogane was left in peace to contemplate the degeneration of his brain functions.

His statement of last night was proving out nicely; Fai messed with him just by being in the same room.

Or to restate the matter in a different way, he was growing increasingly attached and attracted to the other man and that realization was messing with him.

He prowled back and forth across the hardwood floor, keeping the island between him and the blond as if the countertop could provide some sort of protection against the other man's influence. Fai flitted around from cabinet to stove to refrigerator to sink, hardly ever standing still except when messing about with the pans on the range. Even then he wasn't really still; toes tapped a faint beat and slender fingers played idly with apron strings or twirled a wooden spatula.

Fai's face was hardly less alive. Kurogane kept catching glimpses and it shifted like a billboard constantly updating itself to reflect the fleeting thought, concern or contentment of the moment. The eggs got a contemplative pursing of the lips, a spice rack was frowned at, and a dive into the refrigerator resulted in a triumphant reemergence crowned by a bright smile. He looked happy, doing something as simple as puttering around in the kitchen, and Kurogane found that sight cute as well but in a much less headache-inducing way.

He could much better deal with the blond finding contentment in being an attentive host than in the man's penchant for sparkly pink things generally marketed to children.

Serving dishes and bowls were laid out on the island and as toast, eggs and bacon were piled upon them, Kurogane and the baby began coming in for a share of those looks and expressions. The dark-haired man expected some teasing when he was caught staring at the other man, but surprisingly Fai remained silent as he continued cooking, only parting his lips when a smile stretched especially wide.

Finding breakfast nearing completion after a few more minutes, Kurogane shifted the baby so that he could carry her one-armed and began moving plates from the counter to the table. Instead of any protests from his host that guests needn't bother themselves with setting the table, he only got a warm smile that he would have sworn he could feel lingering on his neck as he turned away. Nothing was said even when he starting poking around, trying to remember where he'd seen cutlery the day before; Fai simply watched him for a second and then pointed a finger at the proper drawer.

He nodded his thanks and got beamed at, and then they crossed paths as he headed back to the table with forks and Fai moved toward the sink to rinse off a frying pan. The two men didn't even come close to colliding, but Fai still laid his free hand against Kurogane's arm to keep the baby a safe distance from the hot pan, and his fingers trailed lightly over a muscular forearm as he passed. It didn't quite make a shiver run down Kurogane's spine, but his skin prickled a bit and he turned around after placing the forks on the table, breaking the un-looked for atmosphere with an abrupt question.

"You have a rule about not talking while cooking or what?"

"Hm? Oh, no," Fai answered, shaking his head and looking first surprised, then amused. "I just wanted to up my chances of getting you to smile at me again. I'm working on a theory that there's a direct correlation between how much I talk and how growly you get."

"What's this 'again' crap?" Kurogane asked, perplexed frown deepening as Fai laughed.

"Experiment is a success. I speak, he growls."

" _No,_ you don't make sense and I get annoyed," Kurogane corrected. A pause followed in which he glowered and Fai gave him a crooked smile, head tilted thoughtfully as he pondered a response.

"Well," the blond finally said, "I was cooking quietly and when I turned around, you were smiling at me, so I kept it up, hoping I'd catch you at it again."

"I was not," Kurogane denied flatly, as if accused of stealing teaspoons.

"I think I almost had you at the silverware drawer."

"You wish."

"The moment has obviously passed, however," Fai noted with an overdone sigh, picking up platters of bread and bacon.

Unable to think of a good retort, Kurogane stalked around the island - taking the long way around to avoid running into ( _or brushing up against_ ) the other man - and picked up the bowl of scrambled eggs. There was a bad moment when he didn't notice that the container had caught the baby's attention and barely got it out of her way before she managed to stick a fist into a fluffy pile of steaming hot egg, but otherwise breakfast got underway without any mishaps.

Kurogane sat somewhat sideways in his chair, settled the infant on one thigh and used his left arm like a seatbelt, and then began tucking into the food Fai had piled onto his plate. One good thing about eggs and toast - besides the simple, wholesome taste - was that it could easily be eaten with one hand. A little ramekin of soy sauce perched on his plate was a pleasant surprise, and after a few minutes of chewing, his mood was so far restored that he remembered his manners and paused to praise the chef.

"This is good," he said simply. "Thanks. For dinner last night, too." The smile he got was only to be expected, but the blink of surprise that preceded it pricked his conscience a bit. Despite it not exactly being by his own request, he _was_ the hotelier's guest at the moment, taking up space and eating the man's food. He might be off-setting some of this by providing baby care services, but he supposed he hadn't exactly been all that gracious thus far.

"Do you want me to take a few turns in the kitchen?" Kurogane offered.

"If you want to," Fai replied, but then shook his head. "You don't have to though. I like cooking, and besides, I'm not sure I want a grumpy bear loose in my kitchen."

"I can cook," the dark-haired man said a bit defensively. "What do you think I do at home; eat out of cans all the time? I'm no gourmet chef, but I can make balanced meals...unlike what's in front of you. _Are you eating a plate full of bacon for breakfast?_ "

This last sentence came tumbling out in a rush with hardly a pause between it and the preceding one as Kurogane happened to glance down at Fai's plate to see nothing but strips of crisp-fried pork belly piled on top of each other.

"Breakfast of champions," the blond declared. "I love bacon."

"Breakfast of heart attack victims," Kurogane countered, looking a bit aghast. "How the hell are you so scrawny?"

"Food of the gods," Fai continued blithely, holding up a slice and gazing at it adoringly. "Everything is better with bacon. Including bacon." A thoughtful pout followed, and then he made a concession.

"Okay well maybe not sex. Foodplay isn't my thing."

Kurogane inhaled crumbs and had to drop his toast so that he could cover his mouth and avoid sputtering breadcrumbs all over the table. A few fragments got pretty well stuck in the back of his throat and he bent over the table while trying to clear them out. Eyes screwed shut during coughing fits, he felt more than saw Fai scramble out of his chair and come scurrying over to take the baby from him. Not that Kurogane would have dropped her, but he appreciated not having to worry about her and oxygen at the same time.

A couple more racking coughs, a deep breath and a long draught of coffee later, he felt recovered enough to sit up and glare. Fai was standing by his chair, cuddling the baby and looking down at him with a faint smile that kept twitching at the corners.

"Of course if it's _your_ thing I'm willing to give it another try."

"Is this typical breakfast conversation for you?" Kurogane demanded, feeling heat flare across his face and trying to convince himself that it was just a belated flush from nearly choking to death. It was years since he'd blushed and somewhere along the way he'd come to the conclusion that he'd outgrown that tendency along with pimples and growing pains. Fai now proved that it was no such thing; he'd only avoided letting anyone close enough to tease him.

"You promised we could get to know each other, remember? And I already know your favorite color." Fai sat down, keeping the infant with him. While his attention was wrapped up in figuring out how best to balance the squirmy little bundle on his lap, Kurogane turned back to his breakfast, shaking his head briefly over a man who found nothing wrong in going from "what's your favorite color" to "do you want to nibble bacon-bits off my chest".

While Kurogane was busy wiping ( _ferociously scrubbing_ ) his mind clean of certain mental images, Fai chirped up again.

"So, back to conversations we didn't finish...tell me more about your love life? Or your parents' romance?"

Kurogane found the latter suggestion less daunting a challenge to tackle first thing in the morning, with breakfast barely in his stomach.

"I'll tell you more about my parents first," he replied with a faint grimace. "I'll work my way up to the other stuff."

"Sure," Fai agreed, and then added thoughtfully, "I guess one flows into the other, actually. The example you grew up with probably influenced your own way of approaching romantic relationships."

This only drew another twist of the mouth from Kurogane, but he hid it behind a forkful of food. He'd had the best of examples before him during his childhood but hadn't exactly applied all that theory in practice. His mouthful of egg did not go down easily, as if laced with the pride he would have to swallow if he followed through with his promise to tell Fai about his (un)romantic history. ( _And what sort of example and environment created a man like Fai, who brought home strangers like they were abandoned pets and crawled into their heart-arms-personal space with childish games and not-childlike-at-all smiles?_ )

Once having agreed to continue his stories, Kurogane found that the choice of when exactly to resume his storytelling was being left to him. Fai did not press him to begin then and there, instead enthusiastically nibbling away at his cholesterol-laden breakfast in between bursts of babble directed at the baby and blessedly simple questions directed at Kurogane. Most were answerable with a simple yes or no; Fai wanted to know if he wanted more of anything (no) or a refill of coffee (yes), asked if the baby looked like she wanted more food or freshening up (not yet), and wondered if the storm was letting up at all (look out a window, idiot).

"What woke you up, by the way? I didn't hear an alarm go off."

"What?" Kurogane asked, and then recollected. "Princess over there needed a diaper change."

"Mm," Fai hummed into his mug. He looked ridiculous, craning his neck as far as possible away from the baby on his lap and holding the coffee so far away from him that he had to purse his lips just to make contact with the rim. His desire to keep the infant from being accidentally scalded with the last of his milk coffee had crossed the borders of paranoia and set up camp a good mile into the territory. The mug was set down five times the baby's actual reach away from her and then blue eyes were watching him speculatively.

"I thought maybe you'd had another nightmare. We turned in late last night, but you were up pretty early."

" _She_ woke up early," Kurogane corrected. "And I don't sleep much anyway."

But that was because of nightmares, not circadian rhythms.

"No," he added after a beat, pushing his empty plate away so that he could rest his arm comfortably across the placemat. "No bad dreams."

"I got in a pretty good nap myself," the self-proclaimed situational insomniac said with a thoughtful pout. "Maybe our little kitty here is covered in happy sleep dust?" Kurogane attempted to translate this into plainer English.

"So...what, having her close is acting like a..."

"Security blanket?" Fai suggested.

"I was trying to think of something less five year old, but yeah sure."

"Could be." Fai nodded and Kurogane gave a thoughtful grunt. It sounded silly but held a good bit of water as a theory. His thoughts took a sudden turn and he found himself wondering what it would be like to go back to his narrow bed, alone, after the storm was over.

"So, my parents," Kurogane abruptly began, not wanting to ride that particular train of thought all the way to the next station. Retelling more of the stories he'd learned from his father took some time, and the remains of breakfast were grown cold by the time he'd recapped all the anniversaries and "firsts" that took place in the early years of his parents' marriage. As the table was cleared, he complained about being the only young man in the United States who had to deal with the knowledge that every single room in his childhood home had been christened by his parents within the first week of their moving in. Fai agreed that no man should have to know such a thing, but laughed even as he shook his head sympathetically.

"Oh wait, oh my God, so even your bedroom?" Fai asked in mock horror, pausing with his hands buried in a sink full of suds.

"Well, it was my mother's sewing room back then," Kurogane hedged, standing nearby with the infant once more in his arms. She was still awake but stayed quietly slumped against his chest, seemingly lulled by his voice and the way he was slowly patting her back. "The nursery was a smaller room right next to the master bedroom."

"But even that room..."

"Yeah. And the bathroom. And the hallway. And the landing. Seriously, there was something wrong with my father. Not because of the...I mean that was fine; they were married. But who tells their kid something like that?"

Fai was bent over the sink now, supporting himself with his forearms braced on the edge of the counter, long fingers dripping soapy water as he laughed.

"Oh my God, I'm surprised you don't have more siblings--" Fai's mouth suddenly snapped shut and stayed shut, even though it was obvious from the lilt of his voice that the sentence had originally been longer as it formed in his head. He wasn't laughing anymore, just staring at the dirty dishes hiding among the bubbles with his lips pressed into a thin slash. His mouth was still quirked up at the corners but those were only leftovers and fading fast.

Kurogane waited until blue eyes were flickering over to him and then spoke before the other man could launch into an awkward apology or excuse.

"They weren't planning for ten kids or anything," he said quietly. "Probably three, four at the most. But having me took a toll on her health and they decided to stop at two."

"With how growly a little cub you turned out to be I'm surprised they didn't decide to stop at one," Fai quipped, slowly coming out of stasis and picking up a dirty plate. His tone was teasing but only lightly so, and Kurogane just snorted.

"What was her name?" Fai asked, voice so soft it was almost lost in the noise he was making in the sink.

Kurogane looked away before answering, too many memories crowding up for him to want to meet the other man's gaze just then. The hand he had been lightly patting the baby with stilled a moment and then took up a soft, slow stroking of the curve of her spine. She remained quiescent against him, and he absently wondered if she'd fallen asleep. "We named her Tomoyo, because we wanted her to go on adventures, see the world, get to know it."

Fai frowned up at him in puzzlement. "Tomoyo means explorer?" he guessed.

"No, it's not like an English name where the whole word means something," Kurogane explained. "The meaning depends on what characters you use to write it. We used 'knowledge' and 'world' for her name. Could've read it as Chise too, but 'tomo' sounds like 'friend' and I liked that connotation."

" _You_ named her," Fai said in realization. "How old were you when she was born?"

"Seventeen."

"That's quite an age gap," came the comment, after another quiet moment in which the sharp clatter and clink of cutlery and china were suspended. "I guess that explains how she escaped being named Booboo though," Fai added, his tone lightening. Kurogane didn't follow suit to turn the topic, however.

"Couple of bouts of bronchitis after I was born. Took her a few years to get over that. Then three miscarriages. A couple more bad winters where a cold turned into something nastier. Time sort of just...piled up."

Fai made a soft sort of humming noise, acknowledging what had been said but perhaps not finding any words with which to reply. He said something while rinsing the dishes but Kurogane missed it amidst the hiss of the faucet and his own wandering attention. Fai didn't repeat himself, only glanced up and then away again, leaving the taller to his thoughts.

Tomoyo Kurogane. Born September 3rd at the ungodly hour of 2:32am, weighing in at six pounds, four ounces and measuring exactly nineteen inches long. After being cleaned up and bundled in a blanket she'd been given to Kurogane to hold, and he'd been so enchanted with her that he hadn't had any attention to spare for anyone else in the room. Hadn't noticed how the activity in the room hadn't died down for a long time, didn't realize how much time had passed before his father had actually come over to take a turn at holding his daughter, looked at but didn't really _see_ the tight, tired smile the man wore that hid worry away in its creases.

"You asked me yesterday if I'd lost my wife and child in the accident," Kurogane said, his tone quiet and calm and his emotions anything but. "She was my baby sister but I was the first to hold her, the one to name her." Next to him, Fai had gone still and was staring up at him, a dish towel forgotten in his hands, but Kurogane didn't turn his head to meet the other man's eyes. Instead he stared at nothing, sight turned inward to old memories, and held the tiny stranger in his arms just a little closer.

"My mother was almost bedridden after the delivery and my father was so wrapped up in her that I was the one who raised Tomoyo for the most part. We all loved her but I was the one who fed her, kept her clean, made sure she was safe and warm." His voice rasped at the end and he gritted his teeth, trying to fight down the ache in his chest and keep it from expanding so much that it made it harder to breathe.

"She _was_ mine," he said, wondering why he was telling Fai all this, not even sure what he was trying to really say now. "She was mine," he repeated.


	10. Two proposals and a first date

The infant was warm against him, a comforting, _real_ weight in his arms, keeping him grounded when memories and loss rose up suddenly to overwhelm him like a spring flood. At first Fai was merely a ghost by his side, but gradually Kurogane realized that there was a hand laid over one of his arms and warmth seeping into him from a body pressed close. When he didn't shake the other man off or warn him away with a snarl, Fai leaned into him, resting his face against Kurogane's upper arm and running a hand over the baby's back. Each pass ended with a light caress of a tanned hand, and Kurogane took the closeness for what it was; a simple offer of comfort.

He held the baby close and allowed Fai closer. If he ended up leaning into that soothing presence by his side, it passed without comment from either of them.

"No wonder you have nightmares," Fai murmured, after enough time had passed that the tension had faded and left behind a soft weariness that was almost as good as peace. Kurogane had shifted slightly on his feet as if he'd grown uncomfortable with his own unexpected outburst of emotion ( _his confession, his cry of pain_ ), with Fai's continued proximity or perhaps simply with the way he'd been leaning against the kitchen counter, and the blond had seemed to take it as a signal to break the silence. He took a small step away and a deep breath in, then smiled faintly up at the taller man.

"Well, that's probably enough talking, hm?" Fai received a brief huff that was almost a laugh by way of agreement, which made him smile a bit more in turn before he spoke again. "What do you want to do now?"

Kurogane shrugged and pushed away from the counter. He made his way out of the kitchen and into the living area, more for something to do rather than because he had any sort of plan that required him to be elsewhere.

"What is there to do?" he asked in some curiosity. Usually when the weather shut the world out he simply kept right on working. He generally managed to find something that needed to be done in the store, whether it was restocking or inventory or cleaning. And if he ran through all the day to day tasks, he always had the option of getting a head start on one of his big clean-ups, where he'd clear entire aisles of product so that he could wipe down shelves and give the floors a good scrubbing.

"Plenty, but I don't know if we share any pass-times," Fai said. "What does a bear do in the woods besides work?"

"Go for walks," he began, and Fai cut in with a laugh.

"Not really an option right now."

"I know that," Kurogane growled. "You asked me what I do besides work, not what I do when I can't go out."

Pale hands were raised in a gesture of surrender as Fai folded himself down onto the carpet near the opposite end of the couch from where Kurogane had settled himself. Having more than half-expected to find himself crowded again in this ridiculously spacious cabin, he actually paused a split-second to blink at having been given some space.

"Eat, clean, work out," he added, and then took a review of his answers. Everything he'd just said was more in the line of necessary tasks than relaxation techniques, and everything else he could think of at the moment - pay bills, go on a supply run, shovel snow - was even more like work than what he'd already mentioned. Fai was giving him a look that plainly spoke incredulity, making Kurogane cast about for at least one pass-time that actually sounded like one.

"I read or watch tv if there's nothing else to do," he added, but Fai seemed to find this statement worse than anything.

"'If there's nothing else to do'?" the blond quoted back at him. "Television is your last resort? You'd rather scrub floors than watch a football game? Oh my God, you need to fall in love with me for your own good."

"What."

"I'll teach you to play, stuffy old bear. You know what they say about all work and no play, right? How have you not died of a stroke yet? Is our little kitty cat-napping?"

Kurogane almost repeated his terse query as his host fired off question after question without pausing for answers. Or breath. He latched onto the last item and craned his neck to peer at the little morsel drooling against him.

"Seems like it."

"Perfect. She can nap in the doggie bed while you join me on the floor." Fai patted a patch of carpet invitingly, but Kurogane didn't budge.

"Oh come on," the blond said invitingly, doing _something_ with a smile and his shoulders that made it seem like he'd given a funny little shrug ( _or a seductive little writhe_ ) without actually moving his body. "You can stand in for one of the little luxuries the cabin doesn't have; a bear skin rug by the fireplace."

The smile, those captivating blue eyes and a feeling that Fai wasn't spelling "bear" correctly made Kurogane want to stand up and do exactly what had been suggested. His being who he was kept him firmly planted on the couch instead.

"And do what?" he asked.

"Make out like a couple of teenagers, of course," Fai replied, so matter of factly that Kurogane snorted in amusement at the answer.

"Not exactly what I had in mind when I agreed to get to know you."

"You'd get to know how I kiss," Fai pointed out, abandoning his current pose to flop halfway onto the couch, eyeing his guest from the corners of his eyes and pouting thoughtfully.

"I was thinking more about personality and character," Kurogane said, and began calculating how easy it would be to maneuver a pillow out from behind him and huck it at the blond without waking the baby.

"Are you _sure_ you're interested in me?" Fai asked, frowning up at him now in a passable imitation of suspicion. "Like in a goldfish way, I mean. Because I feel like you're more interested in me as a potential candidate for a job opening or something along those unromantic lines."

"I am interested in you," Kurogane admitted easily, somewhat to his own surprise, "and me refusing to join you on the floor is how you know I'm seriously considering possibilities."

This only seemed to perplex his potential goldfish co-owner further. The frown grew lopsided as one eyebrow arched up, and as if this threw the balance of his face off, that blond head tipped over to the side as well.

"Maybe I haven't been clear on what a romantic relationship entails in my book," Fai said. "I _am_ expecting sex eventually, just so you know. You not wanting to even kiss me worries me a little, to be honest."

"I'm worried that we're having this conversation and I'm actually still considering dating you," Kurogane muttered, and then gave a proper reply. "Look, if we end up together we're not going to be in bed all day and night. If we don't like or even respect each other then it's not going to matter how great the sex is in the long run; we'll still break up." He cast about for a moment, searching for some way to sum up what he wanted to say.

"I'm not going to treat you like a meaningless fling and try to work my way up. I'm going to treat you like this is going to work out, because if it does I don't want to look back and regret disrespecting you."

Fai was staring at him now, all wide-eyed and expressionless and sitting up stock-still like a cat fixated on a bird. The silence spun out for long enough that Kurogane began to wonder if he'd just derailed the relationship train with his mini-speech. He didn't see anything wrong with his ideas, per se, but they might prove to be a bit too rigid for this much more mercurial person before him. The shopkeeper began to formulate a sentence around the idea of seeing if Fai just wanted to call the whole experiment off, but before he could put more than a couple of words together in his brain the other man spoke up.

"You are _evil_ ," Fai declared.

" _What?_ "

"Evil. I've upgraded you past mean to evil. You can't just say things like that and make me fall in love with you while still barring physical displays of affection. You suck. I hate you. Marry me."

"Are you on drugs?!"

" _fffraw_ " interrupted the baby, stirring into wakefulness at this exclamation and snuffling into Kurogane's chest. He swore quietly at himself for raising his voice. The poor mite was plastered against his ribcage; it had probably seemed like a noisy earthquake to her when he'd growled.

"Nope, no drugs," Fai said cheerfully, abandoning his mock outrage as if it was just a light dusting of crazy that he was shaking off. After unfolding himself from the floor and redepositing himself on the couch right next to his guests, Fai reached over to take the fussing infant, chattering away all the while.

"High on life; isn't that a saying? Anyway yes, we should definitely get married. As soon as you're ready, of course. But I've made up my mind; I'm quick like that. Now we're just waiting on you. We'll adopt our abandoned kitten here and be a big - or well, small I guess - happy family. Uncle Yuui will help babysit. Call the hospital and tell them we're keeping...uh oh."

"What?" Kurogane asked, wondering at the sudden pause and strange look taking over Fai's face.

"I forgot to call the hospital," Fai confessed, wide-eyed once more and looking at him contritely. "The second time, I mean. Back at your store, when you told me to tell them we couldn't make it down because of the rockslide and storm? They're probably wondering what happened to us and oh my God, the poor mother must be worried sick; she probably thinks--"

"Call them, then," Kurogane interrupted, when it looked like Fai might be spiraling down into a pit of needless and useless self-recrimination. "Shit happens; clean it up and move on." Mistakes happened even during the best of times, and this one had occurred while Fai had been taking a crash course on infant care that he hadn't ever signed up for. In his book, everyone involved needed to just be thankful that the baby was alive and being cared for. Everything else would sort itself out eventually.

The baby was passed back to Kurogane while Fai trotted off to make a phone call. He returned in less than a minute, frowning at his smartphone.

"The landline's down for some reason, and I don't seem to have reception on my cell."

"Storm probably knocked a phone line down," Kurogane said. The telephone cables could handle high winds just fine, but heavy branches or entire trees were another matter entirely. The blizzard was likely to blame for the lack of cell phone reception as well, and Kurogane added another line item to the list of things to curse the storm for with little more than a philosophical shrug. Fai, on the other hand, began to fret anew over the anxiety and fears their lapse in communication might be causing in an untold number of people at Mercy Hospital, prompting another interruption.

"There's nothing you can do about it, so do something productive instead of worrying yourself sick."

Fai cut short his guilt trip and eyed Kurogane sidelong a moment before curling up again on the couch - only inches away this time - and pondering his guest thoughtfully.

"You are practical almost to a fault," the blond said, nodding to himself.

"And you're impulsive as hell," Kurogane replied wryly. He nodded down at the infant in his lap. "You've known us less than twenty-four hours and you've already proposed to me and decided to try and adopt her. If I find out that we're just the latest in a string of strays, you're definitely never getting that kiss you're after."

"I have no other romantic interests at this time, and no children," Fai said solemnly, raising one hand and placing the other over his heart in some sort of bizarre cross between a courtroom swearing and the pledge of allegiance. "Proposing is also not something I do often, just to be clear. Don't worry; you're special. So! When _can_ I reasonably expect a kiss? First date? One month anniversary?"

"I don't know," Kurogane said, hedging a bit as he had to confront the idea of actually going out on a date and all the as-of-yet misty details of what that would entail. When Fai pouted at this unsatisfying answer and began pressing for a better, the shopkeeper ended up falling back on disclosure rather than deflection. "Look I really don't know. Told you before; I haven't dated anyone seriously."

He had in fact mentioned it, or at least hinted strongly, but this reminder brought Fai up short as if it was a new realization.

"Oh," Fai said simply, blinking a few times and then leaning in a bit with interest. "So wait, am I - or will I be - your first everything?"

"Sorry, no. First kiss at nine, first time at seventeen."

This didn't seem to phase or disappoint the blond at all. He simply nodded and then asked another question without missing a beat.

"When was your last kiss and last time?"

Kurogane grimaced. Thinking of the answer was easy; speaking it was difficult. It wasn't embarrassment at his lack of experience but rather shame at what that limited experience entailed. He would have been proud, by comparison, to declare himself a virgin.

"Why do most of your simple questions have un-simple answers?" he groused. Something on his face might have given away the fact that the answer wasn't just complicated but unpleasant, because Fai backed off both physically and conversationally.

"Bad break-up?" he asked softly, straightening up a bit and then waving his hands in a dispersing gesture. "You don't have to answer all my questions, you know. I just wanted to know more about you, but--."

"And I promised to let you," Kurogane interjected. "Good things, bad things...maybe this one's ugly." He took a moment to try and figure out the quickest, simplest way to tell the tale, rearranging the dozy baby a bit to buy himself a minute. Fai waited quietly, chin on drawn-up knees and long fingers laced together over his shins.

"It was right after the accident," Kurogane said, putting blurry days and endless rage-red nights into a few short sentences, wrapping a careful monotone around the greatest pain he could remember. "One day I just got sick of home and drove down into the city to...well, be stupid. Hit a few bars and clubs, stayed at the one that didn't bother carding, had sex with God only knows who in a storage closet and passed out afterwards. Maybe even during; I don't actually remember much. Woke up hugging a bottle of bleach and decided to come home. Packed up most of the house, re-opened the store and went on with my life."

He stopped and looked to see if any comments and criticism would be forthcoming, but Fai was still in the same attitude, and his expression had only softened into something like sympathy instead of screwing up in distaste or disdain. He wouldn't have been surprised or disappointed if it had; he himself looked back on that night of his life with no little regret. He hadn't been an adult yet but he'd sure as hell been old enough to know better.

Fai, finding that he was expected to speak at this juncture, gave Kurogane a funny little smile.

"The proper term is 'grieving', not 'being stupid'. And it's not ugly. Sad, but not ugly."

Kurogane hardly knew what to say to that, and after a while simply nodded. He wasn't done speaking, however, and picked up again immediately after the gesture.

"So...afterwards. Couldn't for the life of me remember if I'd been given a condom so I got tested for everything I could think of and came up clean. And it was a guy, so I don't expect a knock on the door someday and a surprise kid. That's it. That's my 'romantic history'; some grade school hand-holding and one random hook-up. Still want to do this?"

"Of course," came the immediate reply, and Fai looked honestly surprised at the question. He tipped his head thoughtfully and smiled anew.

"You're being awfully forthcoming," he noted, and Kurogane shrugged lightly.

"Might as well let you know what you're signing up for." It was no use hiding dirty laundry under the bed; it would come out eventually and if there was something that would break the relationship, it was best that it be revealed before they were too much invested in each other. So far, however, Kurogane showing his scars hadn't turned the blond away. If anything, Fai seemed more certain of him - of _them_ \- than before.

"I'm kind of pleased, actually," the hotelier said. "Not that you have these unpleasant memories, of course, but that I'll still be your first in a few ways."

A quirk of a dark eyebrow drew an explanation from the hotelier, starting off slow and picking up speed as Fai grew a bit more excited and cheerful at the bright bed-future he painted for them.

"You've had sex, but I'll be the first person you make love to. And believe me you'll remember it. I'll be the first one to wake up beside you the next morning. And I'll be the first to find out all the little everythings about you; what you like, what _you're_ like in different moods, all of that. If you're quiet or a screamer--"

Kurogane choked at this bit, drawing an impish grin from the blond.

"Seems like I don't have to worry about your temper much either," Fai then added, which threw the dark-haired man more than slightly. If asked to list his good qualities, an even temper definitely wouldn't have made the short list.

"We've been arguing at least half the time we've spent together," he retorted.

"It seems like that's just your normal grizzly growling," the blond said dismissively with a careless flap of one hand. "I kind of like knowing that I can get under your skin, to be perfectly honest. And as for real temper, I get the feeling that you're the type that just has a big quick blow-up and then it's over. I'd much rather deal with occasional snarls than someone who sulks or gets sullen. You've proved to me that you know how to apologize, too, so you're already top of the class."

"Great," Kurogane said somewhat sardonically. "A-plus potential but zero experience. Like I said before, I don't know what I'm doing. Never mind when you'll get a first kiss; I don't even know when we're going to have a first date or what it'll be like. Probably awkward as hell."

Kurogane's mind naturally turned to potential options for the hypothetical first date. At first he tried to imagine visiting the coast but before he could get anywhere with the idea, decided that Fai would be far more likely to visit him first. Elk Ridge then. Dinner and a movie? Would Fai consider a hike work or play? Oh hell, _were_ you supposed to kiss on the first date?

"Why are you being so pessimistic, grumpy bear?" Fai laughed, breaking into his musings.

"Why are you being so optimistic?" Kurogane countered.

Fai didn't fall back on the tried and true claim that as he'd asked the first question, he deserved the first answer. Instead he slumped sideways into the couch cushions as if his spine had suddenly turned to mush and fell into thoughtful musing once more. Those blue eyes lingered on Kurogane's face as if reading and researching, and then he answered his own question first.

"Your first foray into the dating pool didn't exactly go very well," Fai ventured. "In fact it sounds more you just threw yourself into a shark tank while you were bleeding from all sorts of wounds. And it sounds like your parents were as near to perfect as possible and had a beautiful fairytale romance. Are you maybe afraid that you won't be able to live up to the standards that they set? You know, meet your special someone, have that wonderful life together?"

"I'm not _afraid_ ," Kurogane automatically responded. If he'd been more given to self-examination he would perhaps have had to admit that he was...something. Perhaps not afraid, per se, but hesitant at least. Like a man about to step out into the blazing sunlight after hours spent in darkness. Or rip a sparkly pink bandaid off a wound.

"It wouldn't do me any good to meet someone like my mother anyway; I'm not my father so I'd never be able to make them happy. And I don't want the little pink castle full of fat babies, either."

"Your life, not theirs, remember?" Fai said with a grin. "And good; I don't want you to want a wife and babies. I meant it more in the sense of you finding someone who was perfect for you, like they were perfect for each other. Do you think it's in your future?"

"Maybe. I don't know." After a long pause, Kurogane grimaced and added, "I can't really imagine it."

Talking comfortably years after you should have run out of things to talk about, being silent together and yet still communicating, reaching out to tangle fingers together for no reason except that you wanted to. Seasons slipping by as you cooked and cleaned up, changed sheets and kept the same old comforter despite the threadbare patches, went on long walks and snuck quick kisses. He thought of these things and wanted them, each as soon as they occurred to him, and only couldn't bring the shadowy someone at his side into focus.

"Well, two days ago, could you have imagined coming up here to help me take care of a little baby through a snowstorm?" Fai asked cheerfully.

"Hell no. In fact I'm here and I still can't imagine it."

"Well, so there you go," the blond declared triumphantly. "Just because you don't know what life is going to hand you next doesn't mean it's going to be a complete train wreck."

"Why are you so sure it's going to be wine and roses instead?"

"Because you're adorable and I'm an optimist."

"I am not and you're an idiot."

The serious thread that had been running through their conversations snapped at this point, and Kurogane let it. He felt as if he'd said enough to explain himself and give Fai fair warning. If the blond chose to ignore the signs, any subsequent bumps were on him.

As if feeling that the focus had been off of her for long enough, the baby piped back up and this time, refused to be quieted. After another round of feeding and freshening up their little charge, Fai seemed to reach some sort of quota for companionship for the time being. Having delivered some reminders about what was stored where and a request for Kurogane to come and find him whenever the grizzly bear's stomach threatened to growl, he disappeared upstairs with a cheerful wave and a kiss blown off the tips of his fingers.

Kurogane decided that the kiss was for the baby.

The next few hours were quiet but spent contentedly. There were a few slow strolls around the outer walls of the first floor to check the view from the various windows - still whited out - and one break each to the refrigerator and restroom, but otherwise the two guests spent most of their time lolling about on the carpet. The little girl kicked and burbled her way through what Kurogane had thought would have been her next naptime and even managed to roll from her stomach to her back a couple of times through the simple expedient of throwing her head to one side and letting it drag her body along for the ride. Her dark-haired nanny decided to keep this little discovery to himself lest it renew Fai's paranoia about the infant's capability for getting into dangerous situations.

At first Kurogane set himself seriously to babysitting, with his focus entirely on making certain the little girl's wants were seen to and her quota of exercise kept up with. Not even a quarter of an hour into his time with her, however, he was lying on his side on the carpet and lightly tickling at the baby's stomach with no greater goal than to make her smile. It was difficult to keep an infant entertained without ending up playing too, and he only realized how easily and quickly he'd slipped into his current relaxed state when he laughed aloud at the baby's confusion as she tried to eat both her hands at once. The noise caught him off guard, and his immediate reaction was a self-conscious glance back toward the staircase. It remained empty, thankfully, and the noises that filtered down from the second story were faint enough to reassure him that his own voice probably hadn't traveled upstairs to betray him. It had been more of a quiet chuckle than an outright laugh, anyway, with the unfamiliarity of the noise startling him more than any unexpected volume.

And how unsettling, that it had been so long that he'd found anything all that funny that his own laugh should sound strange in his ears.

He was content with his life, but contentment wasn't the same as satisfaction and certainly nowhere near happiness. He had purpose but not joy. He did not cry, but neither did he laugh. His life was full and somehow empty at the same time.

"Suppose I do need more," he mused quietly, chucking the infant lightly under her drool-slick chin. She grinned toothlessly at him and flapped her arms. He let her latch on to one of his fingers and engaged in a brief game of tug-of-war.

"Guess I miss having someone, anyone," he admitted, half his focus on the little girl before him, half turned back to the family he'd lost. "My family's gone but it doesn't mean I can't find a new one."

A determined gumming of his fingertip drew all his attention back to the present.

"Miss your mom, Princess?" he asked, and got a steady look from hazy blue eyes. "I'll get you back to her as soon as the storm's over. Can't keep you but maybe I can keep in touch; make sure you're doing all right."

" _aawr,_ " the baby warbled, her gaze shifting over to his shoulder. It was only the unanchored attention of a very young baby drifting off, but Kurogane spoke as if she'd been communicating a particular thought.

"Maybe," he conceded, thinking of the staircase that lay behind him. "We'll see."

The infant was much more amenable to vague, non-committal answers than the owner of the cabin she was currently occupying, and made no comment beyond a short mewl. Thoughtful conversation was suspended then, in favor of more simple relaxing. The bookshelves were also eventually investigated, windows peeked out of and cushions drooled on by one while being used for a solemn game of peek-a-boo by the other.

The baby grew hungry again at a reasonable hour and Kurogane made his way upstairs shortly thereafter while she nestled in the crook of his arm and enthusiastically nursed at a bottle of warm formula. Dark eyebrows ratcheted their way up as Kurogane came eye level with the second story landing and discovered the place absolutely littered with art supplies. A few planks of expensive hardwood peeped out from underneath overlapping tarps, themselves barely visible under a sprawling pile of canvases, containers and paint-stained rags. Brushes, sponges, and what looked like a variety of tiny gardening tools sprouted from buckets and bins every which way he looked, and in one corner sketchbooks and boxes of drawing supplies were piled three feet high and threatening to topple over.

He hesitated at the top step, scanning for a safe place to put his foot. Every bit of tarp that he checked out had a splatter or six on it that he wasn't certain was dry, and after a minute he stayed put and simply called out.

"Are you under this pile somewhere?"

There were double glass doors to his left and two hallways ahead and to the right, and a quick rustle and light footsteps immediately sounded from the far right hall. Fai appeared with a bright laugh and minced his way with surprising speed through the mess.

"The creative process can be a messy one, my dear bear," he declared, stopping only when another step would have sent him crashing into his guests. He leaned in to nuzzle the infant, resting his hands lightly on Kurogane's arms as if to brace himself.

"Enjoying your milk, Little Kitty?" Fai asked, and then straightened up - but didn't step back - to crinkle his eyes at the shopkeeper. "Is it feeding time for the growly bear, too?" Kurogane had stopped grumbling over every single bear nickname but two in the space of ten seconds deserved a threat. Since his hands were busy keeping the baby and the bottle connected, he settled for a verbal one.

"Keep it up," he dared the man. "Someday I'm going to maul you and then the bear nicknames aren't going to be funny anymore." Fai only laughed and went sing-songing down the stairs.

"I need a gallon of milk, a loaf of bread, a rifle and some tranquilizer darts."

"I need a drink," Kurogane told the baby.

He got one once he'd followed his host into the kitchen to drop off the empty bottle, but it was merely water. Burping the infant and then cleaning her up a bit with a wet washcloth occupied Kurogane for a short while, and then he gravitated toward Fai once more.

Who was wearing the cat apron again.

"Need any help?" he asked, glancing around at the supplies scattered about the kitchen and trying to guess at what was on the menu. A sealed glass container that looked like it was full of meat swimming in some sort of sauce and a monstrous pile of vegetables both leafy and root rested on the island.

"Thank you, but it looks like you've got your paws full already," Fai replied airily as he scrubbed potatoes in the sink.

"She can hang in the doggy bed," Kurogane noted, but that blond head was shaking back and forth.

"I'm fine. You can stay and talk to me though."

"Yeah, 'cause it's been really relaxing the last couple of times we sat down to chat," the dark-haired man said dryly.

"It doesn't have to be a _serious_ talk, you know," the blond said in amusement, and then paused what he was doing to throw a questioning look back at his guest.

"Or it could be my turn to be forthcoming," Fai offered, sorting vegetables into different containers near a chopping board and wicked looking knife. "You said you wanted to make sure I knew what I was signing up for. Do you have any interview questions for me?"

Kurogane thought for a brief moment and then shook his head.

"Anything like 'by the way I drink the blood of innocents' I'm guessing you wouldn't tell me anyway," he said with a wry snort, "and the other stuff probably won't be deal-breakers."

"Well then, what _would_ be a deal-breaker?" came the to-be-expected query.

"Lack of integrity," Kurogane said after mulling it over a bit. "Cheating, lying, stealing, back-stabbing; things like that." He sat the infant down on an unoccupied corner of the island, letting her lean back against him for support so that she could watch what was going on in the kitchen. She seemed not to mind being set down and kicked happily while looking this way and that.

"Never ever, or three strikes and I'm out, or...?" The smile was still on, but those blue eyes looked a bit worried, making Kurogane take a couple of seconds to word his response a bit more carefully than he otherwise might have. He also wondered which of those crimes against honor was worrying the blond the most, but decided against prying. The fact that Fai was showing concern was actually reassuring. A truly deceitful person would have simply locked the closet where their skeletons were hiding and smiled.

"You just can't think that they're okay," he clarified. "You do wrong, I expect you to feel guilty and confess."

"Oh, okay then. I'm still a candidate. What else?"

"I don't know," Kurogane replied with a frown. Integrity pretty much covered all the other extremes he could think of that would make him want to back out of the arrangement. "So long as you're a decent person I guess it's just wait and see if it works out."

Several red potatoes got turned into a pile of petite chunks in a thoughtful silence, and then Fai chirped up again.

"If I ask you to describe your ideal partner, will you trust me to have enough integrity to still be myself around you, even if I don't meet all the criteria?" the hotelier asked, throwing Kurogane a cheeky grin.

"Probably not, but it doesn't matter either way," Kurogane shot back with a snort. "I can't imagine it, so there's nothing to describe."

"What, nothing? Not even short or tall, skinny or plump?"

"Well, at least five-five would be convenient, but if I ended up falling for someone who was half my height it wouldn't matter anymore how tall they were," Kurogane argued.

"Beauty is more than fur-deep for you, I see. So you'll still love me even if I get fat?"

" _If_ I fall for you, I will make sure you get plenty of exercise and stay healthy." A blond eyebrow quirked and Kurogane steeled himself for a joke about the type of exercise planned, but thankfully Fai contented himself with just that one little gesture and a knowing smirk before continuing the interrogation.

"What about qualities that go beyond appearance? What if I suffer massive cranial trauma and undergo a drastic personality change?"

"With any luck you'll ask fewer weird questions and it'll turn out to be a good thing."

"Mean."

" _Sensible_ ," Kurogane shot back. "Are these seriously the things you're worried about? A beer belly and head trauma?"

"Well, I didn't want to ruin your appetite with another serious conversation, but if you insist...do you want to warn me what to expect when we have our first fight?" After handing the cooing baby a scrubbed carrot to play with - but first getting a go-ahead shrug from the shopkeeper - Fai began clattering about with pots and pans, tossing him a smile over one shoulder while adding, "Or you can just tell me whether you're a blanket hog or not."

Kurogane tried to imagine having a real blow-up with the blond, and while he'd already done plenty of growling and grumping it was surprisingly difficult to visualize them actually trying to hurt each other, below the skin where the wounds ran deepest and festered longest.

"A lot of shouting," he said decisively, just to get himself started. That was pretty much guaranteed. "Might grab you but I don't start throwing punches; not unless I'm getting into a real knock-down."

"What sorts of things provoke an actual mauling?" Fai asked, face all alight with curiosity. Kurogane grimaced as he wrestled with his words, not used to having to describe and define all the little things that made him who he was. The baby mimicked him as she inadvertently smacked herself in the face with the leafy top of the carrot she was investigating.

" _ahm!_ "

Kurogane rubbed her stomach and absently steered the carrot away from her eyes.

"I hate to say this because it sounds like a bear thing but I can't think of how else to word it. I'm territorial, I guess. My family, my home, my life...whatever I think is mine; I'll protect it however I need to."

"And when it's threatened, or taken away, you lash out?" Fai asked, letting the opportunity to tease about the territorial instincts of grizzly bears slide by without even a sly smile.

Kurogane just shrugged, but it was basically assent.

"What about you?" he asked, and Fai wrinkled up his face in a comical hybrid of a pout and a grimace.

"Well, according to Yuui I sulk whenever I butt heads with someone. And then I eventually get over it, feel completely ashamed of myself and crawl over to apologize and cuddle my way back into his good graces."

Noting the switch from "someone" to "his", Kurogane asked,

"Your brother's the only one you apologize to?"

Fai turned from the stove to blink at him in surprise, even straightening his stance a bit. He either hadn't expected the apparently insightful question or hadn't realized that he'd spoken so specifically.

"Yuui's the only one who I fight with at all," Fai finally said. "I'll have disagreements with the staff or get shouted at by guests but he's the only one I ever really fight with."

Something about the answer nagged at Kurogane but he couldn't chase it down and pin it, and so he shelved it for later. While he mulled, Fai regained animation and continued cooking, flitting back and forth between the double oven, the stove and the refrigerator and turning the conversation back to lighter topics. With no leading questions from his guest, Fai meandered through old memories, relating adventures that seemed to focus mainly on the blond having bad ideas and not recognizing them as such.

Taking many of the details with liberal pinches of salt, Kurogane found himself being able to piece together a better picture of the man in front of him. Impulsive as already discovered but governed by a good heart, not just whim and fancy. Friendly and outgoing but the only person he seemed to be truly close to was his brother. And apparently his tendency to break his fast with nothing but fatty pork was but a symptom, not the problem itself; Fai was as addicted to salty snacks as he declared his brother to be to sweets.

The flow of chatter ebbed a bit as the food preparations ended and the ceremony of table-setting began, and died off almost completely as the men fell to eating. Besides a few comments on the meal, most of the mealtime conversation consisted of baby noises, both from the baby herself and her blond conversational partner. Kurogane just focused on his food - a sort of dry beef stew - and keeping the baby on his knee from knocking anything off the table.

Lunch ended with cups of fragrant tea and another bottle for the baby, who'd spent the entire meal investigating the raw carrot she'd been given earlier with surprising dedication. The top was a sad, bedraggled mess now and the whole thing was coated liberally in drool, and Fai carried it mincingly to the kitchen where it disappeared into the waste bin. As he returned to pick little shreds of greenery out of the carpet while Kurogane did the same to the baby and his jeans, he laughed at the questionable success of a carrot subbing in as an infant's chew toy.

"Maybe I'll give her a potato next time. Think we could carve it into a rattle or a teddy bear?"

"She's not old enough to care," Kurogane replied, and tried to think of something better for the infant to play with than a raw potato. "Got any new dishcloths? Striped dark and light would be good; babies like contrast. If we knot it up it should make a decent toy."

"That sounds like something you'd use for playing tug-of-war with a puppy," Fai protested, after wrinkling his brow a bit and visualizing the proposed offering.

"She drools and wants to gnaw on everything," Kurogane pointed out.

"True," Fai conceded the point with another laugh as he got up from the floor and swept the bits of greenery Kurogane had picked up into his hands as well. "I'll look around later and see what I can find. Looks like Little Kitty wants a nap right now instead of more playtime anyway."

The baby was indeed heavy-eyed and flushed, and he could feel damp heat radiating off of her as she snuffled and rooted about in the wrinkles of his shirt as if trying to scoop out a cozy hollow to curl up in. Kurogane settled her more comfortably against his chest while getting up from the table, and in the short time it took him to carry his dish from the dining room to the kitchen sink, the little girl fell asleep. The shopkeeper almost carried her off to the bedroom to lay her down for a nap, but then recalled her little roll-over stunt. Though he was still pretty sure she wouldn't be able to roll more than once or from her back at all and therefore would have been safe enough on the bed, he didn't want to chance it, and deposited her in the doggie bed that was still lying in the living room.

His attempts to help out in domestic affairs continued to be rebuffed, and instead of being allowed to help with the dishes Kurogane was sent to a closet where resided a ridiculous number of movies and told to pick one to watch while Little Kitty had her cat-nap. There was a wide array of genres crowded onto the shallow shelves which lined the wall from floor to nearly eye level. It looked as if the hotelier had bought out the entire contents of a movie rental store's action, comedy, drama, horror, romance and sci-fi sections, and there were also whole shelves devoted to children's movies and documentaries. There were some foreign language films and westerns also scattered about, and after a few minutes' wondering perusal Kurogane concluded that the only thing needed to fit out a rental store was a cash register.

He nearly got lost in the sheer number of choices and finally grabbed the next movie to catch his eye before escaping to the living room. He poked around until he found and then figured out the DVD player, glanced behind the couch to make sure the baby was still snoozing away happily, and then made his way back toward the kitchen. Either he'd spent way too much time trying to settle on a movie or Fai was an exceptionally speedy - or sloppy - dishwasher, because the sink was empty and the hotelier busy giving the countertops one last swipe with a dishcloth.

"What are we watching? And do you want anything to drink or snack on while we watch it?" the blond asked.

"'The Godfather', and no thanks."

Fai ooh'd appreciatively over the movie choice and then trailed his guest to the living room, asking questions as they went.

"Where's Little Kitty? And is Mister Bear the type to just sit like a statue while watching something? And more importantly, will he maul anyone who talks during the movie?"

"She's behind the couch," Kurogane answered, with a quick jerk of his head toward the doggy bed, thankfully still quiet. He was tempted to take the opportunity to put a gag order on his companion, but had enough contentment stored up to let it pass. If Fai got too much on his nerves with interrupting chatter he always had the option of smothering the man into silence with a cushion.

"And it's your place; do what you want," he added, as he picked up the remote control and settled himself comfortably into one corner of the couch.

He should have known better than to be so vague. What Fai wanted turned out to be physical contact. There was one beat between the last word leaving Kurogane's mouth and Fai squeezing himself into the little triangle of upholstery between the shopkeeper's left thigh and the back of the couch, instead of sitting a polite distance away or in the opposite corner. Kurogane startled and reflexively jerked his arm up and away, and a blond head immediately snaked under it to settle down upon his chest with a little nuzzle.

" _Not_ what I meant," he growled, while giving the form practically draped over him a jab with one finger.

"But it _is_ what you said," Fai replied triumphantly, after a petulant "ow". "We haven't been together long enough for me to have developed couple-telepathy, silly bear. I suggest you take this tragic misunderstanding as a learning opportunity and use it to remind yourself to be more specific with me in the future."

"Your future's going to be cut short if you don't get off me."

Fai craned his neck to an impossible-seeming degree to pout up at him, and then smiled winningly.

"I promise not to make a single peep during the movie if you let me stay," he offered, and Kurogane narrowed his eyes down at the encroacher as he considered this compromise. The most annoying thing about it was that he had absolutely no reason to refuse beyond whatever combination of pride and prickliness was making him want to pick the blond up and toss him away.

The promise of silence in which to enjoy the movie was enough of a reason in and of itself to agree. Moreover, that long, leggy body fitting snugly against him felt pretty much the exact opposite of awful. From a reasonable, logical standpoint too, it made sense to allow the intimacy. He'd promised to consider and continue the "something" that he'd unwittingly started and had already drawn a line in front of kissing, much to the blond's disappointment. He might as well make a concession and allow the other man some sort of contact as appeasement.

"Fine," he said grudgingly, but dropped an arm around his living blanket's shoulders. The unexpected return contact outdid his tone, and after a pause of surprise Fai snuggled in closer with a contented hum.

The movie started - volume kept low - and progressed, and true to his promise Fai stayed utterly mute save for a faint laugh here and there at some humorous moment. Those moments were rare to begin with and disappeared entirely after a while, and Kurogane glanced down a few times, wondering if the other man had dozed off. Each time Fai noticed the shift in his pillow-person and looked up to give Kurogane a crinkle-eyed smile.

By the time the credits rolled, Kurogane had sunk into a drowsy warmth tempting him to close his eyes. It wasn't the desire for sleep; it was the wish to hold on to this unfamiliar contentment. Pretend he'd fallen asleep so that he would have an excuse to just lay there. Fai remained quiet and still even when the the movie defaulted back to the menu screen, and after idly watching it loop a few times Kurogane glanced down again.

"You awake?" he asked his blanket. There was no movement, but Fai replied right away, voice muffled but not by sleep.

"If I pretend to be asleep because I don't want to move, will that mean I lack integrity?"

Kurogane snorted and glanced over the back of the couch at the doggy bed, letting his gaze linger long enough to watch the snugly wrapped bundle rise and fall in even breaths a few times before settling himself back into the couch corner once more.

"No," he replied. "Just means you're lazy."

"Is being lazy also a deal-breaker?"

"Nope."

"Well, in that case..." Fai said, and instead of finishing his sentence, gave a fake snore. It teased a smile from Kurogane, and since those keen blue eyes were currently planted in his chest, he let the expression linger on his face instead of wiping it away like a stray smear of food.

Instead of indulging very long in his faux nap, Fai soon squirmed a little more upright. Thinking he wanted to get up, Kurogane lifted his arm away, only to have the other man plant his chin on it once it came down again.

"So," Fai said casually, "what do you want to do on our second date?"

"What happened to the first one?"

"We just had it, silly bear," came the response, accompanied by a cheeky smile. "You came over, I made you a meal and we watched a movie together."

"You can't trick someone into going on a date with you," Kurogane protested.

"Yes you can, and I just did," Fai replied, sounding not at all repentant. "You seemed convinced that our first date would be a horridly stiff and awkward affair, so I thought it might be best to keep it casual and just get it over with. It worked out pretty well, didn't it?"

Kurogane frowned and tried to think of some supportable argument against this admittedly successful ploy, but failed.

"Okay fine, it worked," he conceded. "But I'll plan the second one."

After a blink of surprise, Fai broke out into a wide smile.

"Does this mean you've decided to keep me?"

"What? No," Kurogane blurted, and then realized what he'd said in a brief moment of wanting to regain control. Over what, he wasn't quite sure. Life, sanity...something.

"Maybe," Kurogane amended, since he'd just agreed to go on a second date. "I don't know."

"But we are dating?" Fai prompted hopefully.

"We're seeing where this goes," he replied firmly, in a tone usually reserved for dogs and small children.

"I'm getting the feeling that I'm not going to get a kiss at the end of this date."

This predictive statement was spoken laughingly, but it wasn't the way Fai was keeping any real pressure off of him despite all the teasing that spurred Kurogane to a sudden decision. Rather it was the wistfulness behind that lingering gaze and bright smile. Feeling somewhat silly, Kurogane sat up, leaned over and planted a kiss to the other man's forehead. It was all done in swift, economical moves. The kiss itself was just a passing caress as he got up off the couch; barely there and over in half a second as if it was accidental contact as he got up to go rouse the infant for a diaper change.

"Thanks for dinner," he said gruffly as he walked away, refusing to make eye contact at first but then unable to help a glance back over his shoulder as he finagled the baby out of her makeshift bassinet.

"You are adorable," Fai declared, grinning madly as he hung over the back of the couch.

"I am not."

"Are you in love with me yet?" came the question next.

"Wha-- no."

"But it's not impossible that you could be in the future, right?" Fai asked, with a worried-hopeful quirk of his eyebrows.

"...no, I suppose it's not."

"Marry me?"

" _No._ "


	11. Trading ages and calling Mercy

Tending to the infant's needs kept Fai occupied well enough for the next couple of hours that he made no more attempts to further the relationship Kurogane had somehow or the other agreed to start. It was speeding along bewilderingly quickly already in the shopkeeper's estimation, and he gladly let the blond take the lion's share of playtime with the little girl since it gave him some extra breathing room.

Not that he mistrusted his willpower and common sense all that much, but it did raise an eyebrow or two when he looked back over the last day and a half and saw how far from his original viewpoint he'd come. He'd never agree to such madness as getting engaged or promising to move in together within a few days of meeting, but he was definitely proving dangerously susceptible to Fai's wiles and ways, and couldn't say with any certainty that he'd still be on this side of the lines he'd drawn so far in the snow once the storm blew over. As the hotelier put it, he was good at getting under Kurogane's skin.

He wondered - in a mix of bemusement and trepidation - how attached he would find himself to the other man by the time it became necessary to part ways. He told himself firmly that the separation would be a good thing. It would take him out of this strange situation of being out of everything comfortable and familiar; his routine and his store, and the solitude that permeated his life. Trying not to anticipate the nightmares that would likely come to plague him again once he was sleeping alone suddenly made him think about reuniting the baby with her family, and along with the pang he couldn't suppress came the thought of being alone with the other blond he'd picked up.

If nothing else, they had a car ride together. He didn't want to make the drive to Mercy alone, especially with no better carseat for the infant than a laundry basket, and then Fai would very likely want to come back up the mountain with him to be dropped off again at his cabin. Kurogane would need to open up his store again as soon as possible, but perhaps Fai would stop by or they'd agree to still spend evenings together. ( _Not nights, no matter how much the blond whined or wheedled._ ) That seemed a good thing too, after a moment's consideration. The infant was not a component of the romance he was attempting, but she'd been an important, ever-present part of their interactions thus far. Seeing how he and Fai got along when it was just the two of them wasn't a bad idea. Thinking about the blond sent his present focus back to him, and Kurogane blinked when he realized that he was staring and being stared back at in turn.

"What?" he asked, frowning a bit and not just at having being caught ( _daydreaming_ ) wool-gathering. Fai was seated cross-legged on the floor and gazing steadily at him despite having an armful of infant yawping at him for attention. Oddly enough, he also had a thoughtful little crease between his eyebrows as if pondering over a puzzle.

"Nothing," Fai replied in his first surprise at being so abruptly addressed, but then recanted. "Well, maybe something. I didn't catch it earlier but you heavily implied that your entire sexual history was encompassed in that one time you hardly remember."

"Yeah," Kurogane replied, his tone making it something of a question. _So?_

"But you said before that, that your first time was at seventeen."

"Right. First time, last time, same time," Kurogane clarified succinctly, impressed or perhaps flattered that Fai had actually been paying close attention to the details.

"And then you said you came home and opened your shop back up," Fai continued, still looking confused even though he seemed to have all his facts straight.

"What are you getting at?" Kurogane asked in budding exasperation.

"So...you were seventeen when you took over your father's store?"

"Yeah, so what? Teenagers can run businesses." With his father's blessing he'd opted to graduate early by taking the necessary exams so that he could effectively run the store on his parents' behalf. Pregnancy had been hard on his mother and his father increasingly distracted and busy about her. Kurogane hadn't been able to do much for his parents directly and so he'd done the only thing he could think of to do; take care of the business so that they could focus entirely on each other and the coming child.

He hadn't been ignored or shut out, of course. He was as much in the nucleus of the little family as he'd ever been, and hardly a day had gone by when one of his parents hadn't expressed their sense of pride and gratitude for what a kind-hearted, responsible and reliable son he was. And even under those circumstances, it had never been stated that Kurogane was locked in as the store's next long-term manager. He'd still been free to choose what he would for a career but he'd thought back then that he had all the time in the world to think of such things. And then, months later, his family was gone and the store was entirely his in fact instead of just practice, since his father had no other family or heirs to make claims.

But that was apparently not what Fai was so wide-eyed over after all.

"No, it's not that," the blond said, shaking his head. "I just...you told me yesterday that you'd been running the place for a few years."

"The point. Get to it."

"'A few' meaning...fifteen?" Fai asked, eyebrows quirked and tone indicating that he was expecting to be told otherwise.

"More like six," Kurogane replied, and then watched Fai's mouth drop open. Ruddy eyes dropped in turn to scrutinize the pale hands holding on to the baby, ready to lunge forward to grab her in case the blond's surprise loosened his fingers as well, not just his jaw. "Hey, watch her head."

Fai glanced down automatically and shifted his hands slightly to better support the squirming, warbling bundle but continued his own noise-making after only a slight pause.

"You are _not_ twenty-three," he declared.

"Right. I'm twenty four," Kurogane replied absently, still suspicious of the hold the other man had on their little charge.

" _How?!_ "

This ridiculous question finally dragged the shopkeeper's eyes back up, narrowing in some confusion of his own. He knew he was tall, but after one's mid-teens it wasn't as if greater height automatically equaled greater age.

"What do you mean, 'how'? I was born twenty four years ago. Why, how old are you?"  
Fai snapped shut his mouth at this and pressed his lips tight as if afraid the truth would come flying out if he didn't exercise extreme vigilance. Kurogane snorted.

"Come on, our ages can't be that different," he pressed, curious now simply because Fai was acting so weird about it. "What, you actually _are_ a vampire and you're about to hit three hundred?"

This got a light laugh and a shake of the head.

"No, not a vampire. Not a twenty-something year old either though." Fai's face twisted as a dark eyebrow quirked up. "So...how old would be a deal-breaker?"

He made a show of thinking it over for a few seconds and then replied, "Fifteen or younger."

"Be serious," protested Fai, in what Kurogane thought of as a classic example of pot to kettle.

"I'm serious pretty much all of the time, unlike someone I'm getting to know. I can't think of an upper limit to age where I'd suddenly say 'last year was okay but now you're too old'. If you're okay with how young I apparently am, I'm fine with however old you are."

Fai narrowed his eyes, squint-glaring suspiciously for a bit and then suddenly blurting, "I'm forty five." His tone was nothing less than aggressive, as if he was challenging Kurogane to a duel or just daring him to make something of it.

Both Kurogane's eyebrows went up this time at the declaration - if asked earlier he would have guessed high twenties at the most - and then he shrugged it off. Apparently Fai had unnaturally good genes or he spent a good chunk of his income on expensive skin creams and minor plastic surgery.

"Okay," he said calmly.

"What, that's it?" Fai asked incredulously. "Almost twice your age and you barely blinked? I grew up with completely different politics and music and-"

"You're a Fluorite," Kurogane interrupted, but his opinion of the other man had gone through so many revolutions that there was none of the accusation and disgust in his tone that he might have injected two days ago. "You'd have grown up in a different world than me even if we were born on the same day.

"I could start going grey tomorrow."

"Like I care?"

"Ten more years and I may start falling apart. My fingers could knot up with arthritis or I could start having heart problems."

"I'll open jars for you and replace your bacon with steel-cut oatmeal," Kurogane replied. After a second of thought he added, "I might do that anyway, actually. The oatmeal thing. You can open your own jars."

"I'll get old and saggy and you'll still be in your prime."

"Works out pretty well," Kurogane said, nodding to himself. "I'll still be fit enough to push your wrinkly old ass around in a wheelchair."

"I'll die and leave you all alone," Fai then said, looking truly upset now. He hadn't exactly been laughing all this time but his arguments had been more silly than serious in tone, but at this last idea he grew suddenly sober, as if being left behind in unhappy solitude was the one thing he couldn't joke about.

"Or I'll get hit by a car before I turn twenty-five and you'll be the one grieving," Kurogane suggested. "Seriously, can we stop? I don't give a crap how old you are."

Fai huffed at him and Kurogane just glowered back, or at least tried to. He was mildly amused at what a big deal the other man was making of this and couldn't quite get irritated enough to put the usual amount of ire into his glare. He was in fact surprised at - and not entirely believing in - the revelation of what an age gap there was between them, but even upon review he couldn't rightly say that it was off-putting enough to be an issue.

It could happen exactly as Fai was direly predicting. Things could work out and they'd spend years and years together, both eventually dying of old age and all its related ills and indignities, but with Kurogane spending almost half his life missing the partner he'd lost after too few years. But he didn't make decisions - or avoid them - based on such far-off what-might-be's. If his parents had done such a thing Kurogane might never have been born, after all.

"...you really don't care?" Fai asked, and his manner was still subdued. The hint of vulnerability in his quiet, hesitant question had the effect of bringing Kurogane down himself from scoffing sarcasm to something more serious himself.

"I really don't," he said simply, trying to sound reassuring instead of just impatient.

"Oh," Fai said simply, and then nibbled contemplatively on his lower lip for a moment before speaking again. "Well...I'm actually thirty eight."

"Okay," Kurogane replied with utter unconcern. From a practical standpoint he found himself glad that the age gap wasn't as wide as Fai had initially declared, because there had in fact been a bit of validity to the points the blond had been bringing up. Thirty eight was still a higher number than he'd thought, with his guess based half on looks and half on how the man acted, but he'd been perfectly honest when he'd said he didn't care.

"How are you real?" came the question then, light and laughing and tinged with a strange sort of incredulous relief. Kurogane rolled his eyes, heaving himself out of the chair he'd been relaxing in and dipping down toward the floor with his arms out in a silent demand for the infant. One hand took a quick detour, however, to give his host a good pinch on the arm.

"I'm real," Kurogane said dryly, and couldn't help grinning at the way that expressive upturned face went quickly from shock to comprehension and then an absolutely outrageous pout. He whisked the infant away before he could give into temptation to drop a not-very-apologetic kiss onto that protruding lower lip, and scoffed at the threats to call animal control.

"If your phone's working call the hospital instead, moron," he said over his shoulder, going to the nearest window to check on the storm. It was dark outside and difficult to tell if it was from still-thick clouds overhead or simply because it was pushing into late evening. Snow swirled persistently against the glass but after a moment of study he decided that it did look as if the storm might be lightening.

A faint exclamation and quick footsteps behind him told him that Fai was pattering off to check the phone in the kitchen and he turned around to call after the man.

"Your cell phone," he specified with a short sigh. The hotelier wasn't spoiled and stupid as he'd initially assumed, but still had large blind spots when it came to how things operated in the real workaday world. "They won't have gotten the land line fixed that quickly. Not with a storm on."

"Oh, right right," said Fai with a self-deprecating laugh, skidding to a halt on the carpet and patting himself down until he discovered which pocket he'd tucked his phone into last. Kurogane's guess about the storm wearing itself out proved correct, for Fai soon connected with someone and was chatting away with energy. The rush of friendly chat, detailed explanations and anxious questions soon died away into an unenlightening strin of comments such as "mm-hmm" and "I see".

Kurogane let his attention wander until the conversation ended and then looked toward his host inquiringly. The usually cheerful, open expression was drawn into a thoughtful frown and blue eyes were resting on the baby girl. They flicked upward soon enough to catch Kurogane's look, pulling the blond in close with a smile attempting to overtake the more sober expression.

"I really couldn't find out much more than what we'd already been told," he said, tone apologetic as if he was holding himself personally responsible for the lack of information.

"The young woman from the taxi hasn't woken up yet and they wouldn't tell me anything else since I'm not family. As for the baby, there's a detective who wants her to be brought back to Mercy Hospital to be given a check-up and then handed over to the police."

Kurogane mulled this over and soon found himself frowning as well and holding the little girl a little closer, as if worried that someone might materialize from behind a bookshelf, demanding that the infant be immediately remanded into protective custody.

"The police," he repeated. "Not her family."

"I don't think they know who her family is yet," Fai said softly, putting away his phone. "Or maybe they just can't tell me." He spoke to Kurogane but all his attention was on the infant. She leaned contentedly into the warmth of Kurogane's chest, blissfully ignorant of the drama coming into focus around her and the tenuousness of her current situation. The dark-haired man felt protective and possessive, and as if acting out Kurogane's emotions, Fai dropped a kiss to the top of her head and caressed her with an anxious look on his face.

"Poor kitten," Fai murmured, and then raised his face to look inquiringly at Kurogane. "How much longer do you think the storm will last?"

He glanced automatically back toward the nearest windows but couldn't see any better than a few minutes ago.

"Not sure," Kurogane replied. "It seems to be lightening up though, so maybe it'll blow over soon. Another day, maybe."

"But it could get worse again?" Fai suggested, and for some reason he sounded hopeful over the possibility.

"How should I know? I'm not a meteorologist."

"Well, and even if the storm clears up tonight it'll still take a while for the road to be cleared, right?"

Kurogane thought he could see where the blond was leading and quirked an eyebrow up as he cautioned the other man.

"We can't keep her like she's actually a stray kitten, you know."

"I didn't say I wanted to keep her," Fai replied, in a tone heavily implying that that was exactly what he wanted to do. "I'm just pointing out that there's no reason we have to brave the elements and a road that's already proven dangerous in order to rush her into foster care."

Kurogane had nothing to really say against that, since it fitted neatly with his own opinion on the matter, but Fai kept talking as if he had to argue the taller into seeing his point.

"If there was an anxious, loving mother on the other end of the line it would be a completely different matter," Fai continued. "But there isn't. There's just a police officer and some overworked person from Social Services with God only knows what kind of foster care situation waiting in the wings. We're taking good care of her and she's obviously perfectly happy here; there's no reason that isn't founded on technicalities and big hairy yarnballs of red tape why she shouldn't stay with us for a little while longer."

Fai seemed to be getting increasingly spun up, so Kurogane hit the pause button by detaching one hand from the baby to give Fai a simple pat on the head.

"I get it, and while the storm's on she's definitely staying with us," he said. "But as soon as it's safe we're driving her to the hospital. Doesn't matter if we don't like it; we have to."

He got a very upset look from blue eyes that somehow managed to look bigger than ever, but it was at least accompanied by verbal agreement, reluctant though it was. Fai perked up slightly after a moment's silence and gave him a lopsided little smile.

"Maybe the mother's a meth addict with no family who'll sell me her baby for a thousand dollars?" Fai mused. Kurogane snorted at this outlandish non-fairytale twist.

"Yeah this rosy pink chub-bucket looks like a drug baby," he replied wryly. "What do you want with a baby anyway?"

"I don't want _a_ baby, I want _this_ baby," came the exaggeratedly petulant answer. Slender hands wormed their way between Kurogane's arms and the infant's sides as if the hotelier wanted to illustrate his claim. Kurogane was feeling possessive himself but let her go, more sympathetic than territorial at the moment.

"Well, and maybe I don't exactly want to keep her," Fai admitted. "I mean I _do_ , but, well anyway what I really want is to know that she'll be okay."

"Maybe the mother's a sober, sensible woman who'll let us keep in touch," Kurogane posited, attempting to sound as if he was only trying to cheer the other man up, not voicing his own hopes. Fai nodded over this much more reasonable scenario, looking happier already. The little girl continued to be the focus of the blond's attention for a while, soaking up wistful smiles and affectionate little caresses and paying her nanny back in toothless smiles.

Kurogane just stood by, close but not quite hovering, gazing intently at the infant as if trying to burn the sight of her into his memories and not admitting to himself that that was what he was in fact doing. Fai soaked up her warmth and weight while Kurogane took mental pictures, and some time passed easily away in this quiet communion.

The baby was the first to break the mood, gumming Fai's clothes and making increasingly noisy demands for another feeding. They fed her while standing around in the kitchen, snacking out of small bowls of vegetables and crackers since lunch had been late enough to stand in for dinner and neither of them were hungry for a proper meal. Whoever wasn't munching away on a slice of bell pepper or carrot generally filled the silence with conversation, and the topics were as light as the food. They shared more memories, compared opinions on movies they'd both watched and had a surprisingly lengthy debate about the relative merits of seafood and farm-raised animals.

Despite differing opinions on matters the conversation remained calm, and only hit a little snarl - a literal one rumbling up from Kurogane's throat - when it came time to turn in.

The baby was already nodding off against Fai's shoulder and both men agreed that it was time for bed. The only point of contention was whether or not they needed one bed or two.


	12. Fai is a terrible kissing strategist

Defending his sleeping quarters against invasions only cost Kurogane some minutes wasted in listening to murmured accusations that he was a mean old territorial bear. Any more noisy or energetic tactics the blond might have resorted to were repressed by the fact that the baby was already snoozing peacefully away on the bed, for which the shopkeeper was profoundly grateful.

Not that sharing his bed - again - would have been unpleasant, and that was somewhat paradoxically one of the reasons he wanted to avoid it. At least for now. The more attractive the blond became as a companion, the more difficult it would be to part from him in a day or two. Kurogane wasn't actively trying to sabotage their relationship before it got well under way, but most of the trial period would be spent apart from each other thanks to current places of residence, and he saw no reason to make that part of his life any more painful than it needed to be.

He foresaw discomfort even now while comparatively unattached, if they parted and lost contact and never met again, which logic still dictated as a solid possibility despite all of Fai's protestations and professions. The predicted discomfort was less in the idea of losing contact with Fai, and more in having admitted to himself that his solitary lifestyle could no longer satisfy him. He'd had a taste of what it might be like to be a part of a family again, liked it even though he'd fought against it, and now was finding that he didn't want to get used to being alone again. He would go back to his store but he couldn't go back to the life he'd been contenting himself with.

It wasn't a bad thing, per se. Perhaps even necessary and only a little uncomfortable, like needing to step out into bright sunlight after being too long in the dark. (Or ripping a sparkly pink princess bandaid off of tender skin.)

This snowed-in cabin situation couldn't be perpetuated; that was simple fact. While it was oddly enjoyable he didn't _want_ it to go on forever, but there was hopefully something even better to be worked toward. The echoing quiet of a home too large for one person replaced by the near-constant background noise of another person puttering around. Another body to help warm the bed on a cold night. Everyday happinesses piling up until the little things became one great big store of contentment powerful enough to turn a good life into a great one.

Now it only remained to be seen if Fai was a critical component of that better life he wanted for himself.

After dropping a light peck to each of the baby's sleep-flushed cheeks the potential partner in question pouted his way toward the door. Kurogane waited there, a sigh of relief that he'd gotten out of bed-sharing so easily swelling that broad chest. The air was released as a snort as Fai stopped in the doorway, only taking half of the step that would have put him into the hall and spinning on his heel next to face the other man.

"Goodnight kiss?" Fai requested, tipping his face up and teetering closer as he lost his balance post-twirl. Kurogane would have felt certain that the maneuver was on purpose, save that at these close quarters he could catch the way Fai's breath stuttered and the little uncertain twitch at one corner of that bright smile that didn't exactly speak of ease. He spared a moment to wonder at himself, too, that he should feel as though he knew the man well enough already to be able to catch and interpret these little signs.

Kurogane managed to stop himself from immediately giving a flat negative, already better at remembering that Fai was something more than a stranger to keep at arm's length and not sure if he ought to be pleased with himself or wary of this person who'd covered so much territory in his heart in so little time. Instead he leaned forward and gave the other man another quick peck on the forehead before he could debate himself into an awkwardly long pause. There was more silky soft hair than skin against his lips and it was over just as quickly as its predecessor on the couch. Chary, but still a concession. The "might as well" philosophy was sinking in a bit better, though it still took a few seconds to override long years of standoffish habit. Kurogane was of the opinion that he was doing a pretty good job of grappling with the changes he was thinking of making in his life, but Fai was shaking his head.

"Oh come on," the blond protested laughingly. "I mean, thank you, but don't I rate at least a cheek-kiss by now even if I can't get a real one? That's still family or friend territory for most people, you know. Perfect stranger territory in some countries, in fact. In Scandinavia I could get _two_ kisses."

"This is the U.S., and I'm me," Kurogane retorted, and then took refuge in practicality. "Besides, it's easier on my neck." Fai was tall compared to the national average, but Kurogane still had about six inches on him.

"Lazy old bear," Fai mock-grumped, but then fell to pondering the other man thoughtfully. Before Kurogane could redouble his efforts to get the bedroom emptied out, Fai straightened up and straightened out his expression into a simpler smile.

"Can I kiss you back?" he asked, a suppressed eagerness suffusing his expression like that of a tot picking up on the possibility of lollipops. When a dark eyebrow quirked up skeptically the blond added quickly, "Just like you kissed me."

At this clarifying point, Kurogane shrugged, which was his version of "sure, whatever". Thankfully the gesture seemed to be understood without needing any explanation and Fai leaned in with a widening smile. Under the impression that what the blond wanted was to give him a return peck on the forehead, Kurogane obligingly bent down a bit.

Slender arms slinking around his neck didn't raise any alarms, and neither did Fai meeting him more than halfway but then nuzzling lightly along his jawline instead of tipping his head up. The notion that the blond wouldn't pass up an opportunity to sneak a free snuggle while claiming his approved forehead kiss was nothing surprising at this point. The damp kiss he got right on his jugular, however, definitely got a reaction.

Kurogane jerked up and away, startled and stiff and taken by surprise, and not just by Fai. Soft lips warm and wet against his skin had been unexpected, plain and simple. But close on the heels of shock had been a burst of _something_ rushing up his spine and knocking his stomach out of place as it passed. It was a sensation that he wildly thought "fizzy" and "scorching" came close enough to describing because he wasn't quite ready to grapple with the fact that a quick little nip against his neck was enough to set him suddenly afire with lust.

If he had been completely open and honest with himself in that moment of assessment, he would have had to acknowledge that lust was, in fact, what it was. Hindsight would have given him the reassurance that it wasn't anything all that unsettling, really. He'd already admitted to himself that he found Fai attractive, and the fact that he'd long been alone and lonesome was just that; plain old unadorned fact. What was so startling in the notion that a sweet little nibbling kiss on his neck from someone he wanted would make him want _more_?

Nothing, of course. It was only natural. Natural that it should make him want to reach out and press in on the small of the blond's back to draw him in closer, let their body heat mingle like a promise of the much more satisfying skin-contact they could have. The scent of food often served to sharpen hunger. A hard winter made him look forward to spring all the more. He craved more of this man's touch and wanted to dull the memory of years of solitude in the warmth of another person's arms. It was natural and logical and he _might_ have admitted it all to himself if he'd had a little more space or time.

Before he could think of pushing the other man away he'd already done it, and found himself frozen with both hands now gripping Fai's upper arms tight, keeping him pinned about one foot away. He couldn't quite sort out in his suddenly short-circuited brain what he wanted to do next, what with shock and outrage and _want_ all muddling together into a confusing mess. He ended up just remaining right where he was, as he was, hands locked and staring down in wide-eyed he-didn't-know-exactly-what.

At the end of his rigid arms was Fai, and as he watched, the man descended through varying reactions of his own. The first sight he registered was that simple smile turned into a playful, unrepentant grin. If it had stayed so Kurogane might have shaken off his strange stupor and gotten grumpy-grumbly instead, but it soon grew fixed, faltered and then fell away entirely. The fair face tipped down a centimeter or so but the eyebrows remained stationary, creating a questioning expression, and then Fai's shoulders hunched up slightly, giving him the look of someone anticipating a scolding.

Which, in Kurogane's opinion, the man had fairly earned.

But he didn't deliver one, because he had gotten his internal language center plugged back in and was already busy lecturing _himself_. He found himself wanting to investigate more closely that strange shock that had shot up his spine and settled somewhere in his chest, dissipating too quickly for him to know it and only leaving an emptiness that wanted to be refilled. He wanted to get Fai in close again, put the other man conveniently near his throat and get another nip, this time while paying attention so that he could determine whether that first sensation had indeed been a quick flick of a tongue or only a brush of lips. Or see if a kiss - a real one, like Fai kept pressing for - would also recreate that odd mix of restlessness and satisfaction, of hunger and _good_. Thread his fingers through all that flyaway gold and return the little nuzzle he'd gotten earlier, lock them together without a second thought for where they might end up.

And so he lectured himself harshly on why it would be foolish to give in now, after all his little speeches about wanting to do this right if he was going to do this at all. They hadn't been empty words; he'd spoken the truth and still stood by what he'd said even as he was sorely tempted to do exactly the opposite. And he _was_ going to stand his metaphorical ground, damn it, because it was what he believed and furthermore he also believed in his own willpower. There were men out there who let their dicks lead them around, but he was not going to discover at this late age that he was one of them.

Pummeling his unexpected and unwanted urges into submission took long enough that it was Fai who ended up breaking the silence.

"That...played out much better in my head," he ventured hesitantly, with a nervous little laugh that was mostly air.

"Yeah?" Kurogane responded, after a steadying breath and a quick throat-clearing, quite proud of how normal his voice sounded even as he kept it dialed down for the sake of the sleeping baby not ten feet away. He'd been half-afraid of it coming out as a choked squeak. "How was it supposed to go?"

"Well, I thought you'd get all growly and ask me what the hell I was thinking or something along those lines," Fai explained, squirming a bit within the grasp he was still ensnared in. "And I had a clever response planned about how I'd simply done exactly what I said I would, which was give you the same sort of kiss you'd given me; wherever was the most convenient."

"Smartass."

"Ah, _there's_ the growly."

"Look--"

"I'm feeling really insecure here," Fai interrupted.

"Because I called you a smartass?" Kurogane was perplexed at this. The fact that he could be less than gracious was not exactly a state secret.

"Because you say 'interested' but act like I'm infectious," Fai explained. "The storm's letting up and I found myself wanting a little reassurance. A break-up text as I step off the plane is not how I want this to end. I understand that you don't want to found this relationship on physical attraction alone but _I_ want to make sure it's at least _there_."

"And licking my neck was the best strategy you could come up with?" The question was delivered with a bit of growl and a lot of incredulity, and Kurogane thought that they might belatedly have that little snarl and sass moment Fai had been banking on. Instead of flashing a smile and coming back with some witty comment, however, the blond only squirmed again, looking like he was trying to shrug uncomfortably. It made Kurogane aware that he was still holding on tight to the other man's arms and he finally let Fai go, resting his hands on his hips after an awkward casting about for what to do with them now that they were empty.

Once freed, Fai lost a bit of height like a puppet on slackening strings; head tilting to the side, smile only half on, arms crossed between shoulders tipped one way and hips tipped the other, strong on one foot and the other knee buckled.

"It proved my point, didn't it?" he countered, argumentative certainly but not aggressive. "I was hoping to lure you into at least a brief make-out session but instead you pushed me away and stared at me like you were worried about rabies. Look, just tell me that you're interested but not attracted. I'm a big boy; I can handle it. We can still watch movies together, just minus the cuddling."

Kurogane frowned thoughtfully down at the other man for a minute. He had an odd feeling that this was one of those moments - usually only recognized in hindsight - where he had an opportunity to glimpse into a window and gain insight into a situation or person. Life didn't play out script-perfect nor was he a trained profiler or psychiatrist, however, and his eventual short sigh punctuated little more than a mental note that Fai possibly had patience issues and that he actually seemed to be more serious about this whole...goldfish thing...than Kurogane had given him credit for.

"No," Kurogane finally replied, in plain English that probably wasn't all that understandable.

"Nooo...what? No, you don't even want to just be friends?"

"No, I'm not telling you that I'm not attracted to you," he clarified, and then forced out an admission before he could think better of it.

"You look good," he said as simply as he could, while silently threatening his own voice with improbable levels of harm should it dare to come out of his mouth at all hesitant or mumbly. He also ordered his hands to stay put at his hips instead of wandering off to attend to a nonexistent itch on the back of his neck. There wasn't anything he could do about the heat that he could feel flaring high across his face, but he tried countering it with a challenging sort of glare.

"But not good enough to kiss," Fai prompted, persisting still but starting to relax back down, smile and arms loosening up instead of snapped all tight and tense.

"Good enough to _not_ kiss right now," he corrected. "I bet you'd get all knotted up about it later, wondering if I did it just to prove a point. That's not how I want it to go."

Fai stared at him a good long while, apparently processing, and then said tentatively,

"If I understand you correctly, what you're saying is that first kisses should be special. Or that kisses in general are something special in and of themselves and are to be treated with respect."

Kurogane reviewed the long-winded concept summaries quickly and nodded, then quirked an eyebrow as Fai unaccountably brought his hands up to his face as if to hide a blush.

"Oh my God, kill me," Fai muttered. "Tall, dark, handsome, not-straight and _a total romantic_."

"Wha--I am _not_."

"You are not real."

"Get out."

" _Please_ marry me."

"Out."

"Oh sorry. Romantic, right," Fai checked himself, fluttering his hands in apology. And then with startling swiftness he grabbed Kurogane's left hand and sank down on one knee. He looked up with a ridiculous smile on his face and batted his big blue eyes, but before he could launch into whatever his notion of a proper proposal was, Kurogane recovered and hauled him back onto his feet in something distantly related to panic.

"Oh for... _no_ ," Kurogane growled, getting right into the other man's face to say it, then crowded Fai out into the hallway as if afraid that the baby might wake up, witness this idiocy and be mentally scarred for the rest of her life. He jabbed a finger at that unrepentant grin to cut off whatever further protests or persuasions or proposals might be brewing, drawing a breath to speak some threat or ultimatum.

Sadly, his language skills chose to desert him at that moment, leaving him standing there with his mouth open and first finger pointing at an increasingly expectant Fai. He ended up snapping his mouth shut and closing his eyes a moment later while sighing heavily.

"...did I break your brain?" Fai asked in a whisper, leaning over to peer at Kurogane, who had stopped pointing in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose as if willing away a headache. Kurogane nodded.

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"Mmm...you are correct, I'm not really sorry at all."

Kurogane dropped his hand and looked up again at this, exasperated and yet enjoying this bizarre back-and-forth just a microscopic bit, though not enough to want to let it go on much longer. His first priority remained shooing the bird brain away so that he could turn in and get some much needed rest.

Fai was smiling at him again, but the expression was not any one of the wry or cheeky or challenging ones he'd been wearing in the last quarter of an hour. It was that calm, somewhat bemused smile that softened his entire face and made him look almost like a different person entirely. When Fai noticed that he had the other man's attention once more, it widened slightly and then parted for speech.

"I desperately want to tell you right now how in love with you I already am, but I think it might just make you want to argue again and you look like you've had enough, so..."

He leaned in, cat-quick and with the same feline economy of movement, and planted a light kiss high on Kurogane's cheek.

"Good night," Fai said airily, and then padded away without another word. He was almost out of sight by the time Kurogane came up with a response, but looked back at the belated "good night" from the shopkeeper and flashed his guest a bright smile.

Kurogane stayed in the doorway for the smile and also stood his ground at the fluttery wave, but quickly shut the door on the kiss that was blown down the hallway.


	13. The storm ends and Kurogane runs errands

The baby slept soundly but woke after only a few hours, mewing unhappily with her eyes scrunched up tight. Kurogane was up in almost the same instant, his lids also still sealed with sleep as he groggily rolled out of bed. He pried one eye open to look, look again, then sigh at the little clock on the side table before turning back to the bed. She'd had one very good stretch of sleep earlier, and was apparently now back to mini-naps. He got through the diaper check and change without waking completely up, but shook off his dozy state as he hoisted the squirmy infant up to his chest and walked out into the hallway.

She was already yawning her way back down into slumber by the time he neared the kitchen instead of rooting around in his t-shirt for food, so Kurogane decided to simply walk a few laps of the first floor to settle her before heading back to bed. As he prowled silently around, bare toes digging into the deep carpet, he looked around for his host.

Now that he thought about it, he was a bit surprised to have woken up with only other occupant in his bed. He wouldn't have been all that taken aback to find that Fai had snuck in again to take a share in the baby's security blanket properties. Roaming around the first floor didn't turn up any sign of the blond and the cabin was hushed, so Kurogane guessed that Fai was either puttering around upstairs again or had actually gone to bed. It wasn't a particularly pressing mystery that threatened to keep him awake if left unsolved, so after a cursory look around Kurogane shrugged and went back to sleep, taking pains not to jostle the infant slumped against his shoulder as he laid down.

Another few hours and both the sun and baby were up. Kurogane felt a bit disoriented at being awakened by both in an almost storybook-sweet manner. With the storm having blocked out all light he'd never bothered drawing the curtains in his bedroom and now watery sunlight was streaming sideways through the windows, brightening the room in a way that lamplight never could match and tugging him insistently out of unconsciousness. The baby was in the shadow cast by his torso, burbling happily and attempting to roll onto her side so that she could grab his face. She was failing miserably but did not seem at all upset, and it was one of her occasional happy squeaks that finally snapped him fully awake.

"Morning, Princess," he rumbled, and she squealed again, flapping her arms as if attempting to take flight and smiling toothlessly at him across a few inches of bedsheets. All that were missing were little cartoon birds to help her get changed.

" _Aawra_ ," she declared, and then fell to gnawing on the fingers of her right hand while gazing raptly at him. Kurogane lazed away several minutes in a slow, sleepy staring contest, slowly tracing all the little variations in her newborn-blue irises and occasionally poking her in the stomach to make her chortle in that wet, gurgling fashion that was only attractive in infants. This laid-back idling was uncharacteristic for the strict shopkeeper, but he found himself unwilling to break out of this peaceful little interlude. Eventually the infant provided the motivation for beginning the day by growing bored with drooling all over her hands and starting up a fussy little mewing that spoke of hunger.

"All right, I'm up," he responded, speaking aloud since she seemed to like his voice even if she couldn't understand him. She cooed back at him and he continued the chatter to keep her occupied while he changed her into a fresh diaper and a less drool-damp outfit, then took her to the kitchen and prepared breakfast for her. Finessing the powdered formula out of the box and putting together a bottle one-handed took some effort and concentration, but he didn't particularly feel like setting the baby down on the floor or in the doggy bed. He told himself that it was because she'd probably start crying all the sooner if she didn't have warmth and motion to keep her soothed, and the nearness of his voice to distract her.

Coincidence or the bit of racket Kurogane made at the stove lured Fai out from wherever he'd been hiding, and the shopkeeper frowned as he noticed that his host was still wearing the same shirt and pullover as yesterday. Not that he was offended by it, but...

"Did you sleep?" he asked, instead of returning Fai's bright greeting. Too bright and cheerful in fact, when contrasted against eyes lidded not with residual sleepiness or teasing slyness but tiredness instead, and cheeks that were smooth and pale instead of blanket-marked and flushed. Kurogane did a quick review of the past two days. So far as he could calculate, Fai had only gotten in a quick cat-nap on the floor and maybe three or four hours at the most their first night here.

"Maaaybe," Fai drawled, and then laughed lightly at the way Kurogane glowered at him. "I told you, I don't sleep much when I'm up here alone. It's fine, Papa-bear; school's cancelled because of the snow!"

The blond segued into questions about breakfast and Kurogane let the insomnia issue go for the moment. Instead he he made himself look out at the dawn light glittering over soft curves of piled-up snow while absently swirling the bottle of formula in the pan of water heating on the stovetop. His immediate thought had been to argue that Fai's lack of rest wasn't fine at all, because the storm had ended, and that meant that a drive down the mountain was in their near future. He was fine with making the drive, but he wanted an alert passenger in the back seat to help him watch over the baby, especially if they couldn't find a proper carseat in town.

And at the end of that drive was the end of his interaction with the little mite draped against his chest.

He'd known it all along and accepted it as simply what must be, but Kurogane realized that he had apparently been indulging in at least a tiny bit of denial because he'd been avoiding looking at the windows after that initial face full of sunshine. He'd quite literally turned his back on it and indulged in quiet contemplation of the infant at first, and just a few minutes ago had refrained from setting her down thought it would have freed up his hands in the kitchen. He shook his head at himself while shaking water droplets off of the baby bottle.

"Want to feed her while I make breakfast?" he asked, partly to prove to himself that he wasn't being a sappy ass about the baby, and also because he wanted to confirm again that the hotelier was proving to be a capable babysitter. It hadn't occurred to him yet, oddly enough, but now he realized that with the storm blown out he needed to get back to his store, too. Getting the baby back down the mountain was only one responsibility to attend to; there was also his life to resume.

Fai looked very sorely tempted by the little bundle of pale pink fleece mouthing at the collar of the bottle that Kurogane had settled within the circle of two chubby little arms, but did not move yet to take her from the other man.

"Are you sure? I don't mind, and breakfast will be ready sooner if I make it since I know where everything is."

"It's fine," Kurogane said dismissively, and huffed in amusement when Fai proved to need no further urging. He dropped all remnants of self-denial and shimmied forward immediately with his hands out. Less than ten seconds later he'd disappeared into the living room with the bottle and baby.

Kurogane began rummaging around in the kitchen, taking stock of what was available - everything - and deciding what to make. He had some very simple options in front of him but something made him want to prove that he wasn't given to eating out of cans and cooking with the microwave just because he was a middle-class, admittedly isolated bachelor. Fai had turned out some fairly impressive meals for him in the past two days, and that meant Kurogane wasn't about to just set out some cereal and pan-fried processed meat product and call it good.

Deciding on a plan and then laying out all the ingredients, containers and utensils he needed took long enough that before he could get through the first main task of peeling and hacking up some potatoes, Fai was back in the kitchen, gingerly lowering the empty bottle into the sink as best he could without actually taking either of his hands off of the baby draped against his shoulder. The blond offered up a smile and a promise of assistance once the baby was well burped, but Kurogane waved him off to the living room with a grumble that he could very well figure things out on his own.

The little girl would be happier for having someone to look at, not just some carpet to lay on, and Fai looked tired enough that Kurogane didn't really want him brandishing a knife or hovering over a hot stove. Watching an infant wasn't exactly something one ought to do when fatigued either, but lolling around on a couch or the floor wasn't a complex task, and Kurogane trusted the man enough by now not to do anything truly stupid like test the baby's reaction to beer or leave her alone at the edge of the couch during a bathroom break.

Fai meandered away again without putting up much of a fight, which only bolstered Kurogane's opinion that the man was tired out. Breakfast preparations got underway again, with the dark-haired man only pausing now and again to listen for happy baby noises. Or at least alive and not-particularly-distressed baby noises. Occasional burbles reached him in the quiet spaces between the rasps and clunks of a knife slicing through vegetables and the scrapes of a spatula across sizzling pans, reassuring him enough to keep him in the kitchen. Toward the end of his task Kurogane began setting the table in the dining room and carrying plates and bowls from the kitchen, and quick glances over to the living room showed him nothing at first. Homing in on the sound of little coos and mraws soon gave him the sight of a bit of fair hair and one shoulder peeping over one arm of the couch near the television.

He stalked over to the plushy seat as soon as breakfast was ready, the table set with everything except for coffee since he wasn't sure how much milk to water the man's cup down with. A call to eat died on the edge of his tongue, however, as he found Fai curled up, facing away from the edge and to all appearances, fast asleep. The little girl was lying on her back in the little hollow that Fai's body fenced off, occupied in batting at the patterns embroidered into the back of the couch.

Ruddy eyes flicked over to the plates on the table, steam rising from the food waiting there, then fell back to pondering the lanky form tucked up onto the couch. As he had when he'd found Fai napping by the foot of his bed, he hesitated from waking a confessed insomniac, but again decided to break into the man's slumber. Breakfast needed to be eaten, and Fai could always nap afterwards. With the baby, if having another body nearby was the only cure to his insomnia.

"Hey, wake up," Kurogane called out, and the infant assisted him in his efforts by flapping her arms around energetically at the sound of his voice, smacking at her living retaining wall. Fai came awake with little more than a slight jerk and quick intake of breath, and Kurogane looked down with no little appreciation at the way the man did a quick visual confirmation of the baby's location and well-being before anything else. Blue eyes eventually blinked upwards at the man looming over the couch and then crinkled up in a smile that turned into a yawn.

"I'm awake," Fai announced unnecessarily, and stretched languidly before half-sliding off the cushions. He turned to scoop up his couchmate but Kurogane was already hoisting her up.

"Breakfast is ready," Kurogane said, nodding toward the dining room. "There's coffee too but it's still in the pot."

"I love you," Fai said feelingly, which the taller chalked up more to the account of coffee beans than any attempt to get one step closer to that kiss he kept angling for. While the hotelier prepared two mugs, Kurogane scooped up the doggy bed that was still in the living room and dropped it on the floor between their chairs, settling the baby into the plushy nest and eyeing her a moment to make sure she didn't kick up a fuss at being put down.

"Mmm, this smells like heaven. What did the grizzly gourmet make?" came the chirped comment and query, the blond already sounding more refreshed for having had a quick nap and a gulp of coffee.

"Potato hotcakes and you can figure everything else out yourself." A platter of pork with pan-fried apple chunks and two small bowls of strawberries and grapes did not need a tour guide. Happily Fai seemed to find the food more than just palatable, and for a while he hardly ate any of it because he was so busy complimenting every little nibble. Finally he began tucking into his breakfast in earnest and silence reigned for a while at the table, only broken by the quiet noises of cutlery and the baby burbling by their feet.

Fai put away a respectable stack of hotcakes and a good helping of cutlets, and then seemed to almost settle into a trance, eyes closed while he held his mug of coffee up to his face, reveling in the steam. He almost looked like he would drift off again and end up face-down on his empty plate.

"You look like you're about to conk out," Kurogane commented. "You going to be all right with her while I open my store back up and run some errands?" He had phone calls to make which would hopefully gain him good news about the rockslide and the possibility of getting his hands on a carseat rated for infants less than a year old. He wasn't too sanguine about the chances of one of the stores in Elk Ridge carrying car seats, but the sheriff or one of the pastors could very likely hook him up with a family willing to let him borrow one for a little while.

Fai's eyes blinked wide immediately.

"What? Why?" he blurted, and then realized that he probably ought to elaborate. "I mean, the road's not open yet, is it? Can't you stay here until we're ready to drive her to the hospital?"

"The road still being closed doesn't mean anything to my customer base," Kurogane retorted, just barely biting back a 'moron' though it probably leaked through a bit in his tone. "In fact it might drive more people to my store since they're cut off from the city, plus I'm usually the busiest before and after a storm anyway. Told you before; I've got responsibilities."

"But what about our responsibility to our little kitten here? If I recall, you also said it would be child endangerment to leave her alone with me."

"You've been doing fine," Kurogane replied, snorting at this sudden reversion to the panic of two days ( _only two days?_ ) ago. "You can always call me if something comes up that you're not sure how to handle."

"And if something goes _wrong_ and I need immediate assistance?" the now wide-eyed blond demanded, looking worried enough to cast further doubt on the issue in Kurogane's mind. He'd already been on the fence about it, mostly arguing about the need to get back home just to prove to himself that he wasn't being too sentimental, but had to admit that two days wasn't enough experience to certify a man as a qualified babysitter.

"We need a carseat," he insisted, but then made a concession. "I need to check in at home too, but I won't stay all day. Won't take more than a few hours. You'll be fine."

Fai looked less than convinced and not at all reassured, but after extracting Kurogane's cell phone number and a promise that any calls or texts from him would be answered immediately - or as soon as Kurogane could safely pull over if the shopkeeper happened to be driving - the blond agreed to a temporary separation. Seeing no sense in letting any more daylight go to waste, Kurogane got up and began clearing the table. Fai hastened to assist, but the taller shook his head.

"I got this. Why don't you play with her; make sure she stays awake for a little while longer. With luck she'll nap while I'm gone and you won't have to worry about anything."

His advice was readily taken and then while he packed away leftovers and washed up, Fai peppered him with questions as quickly as they could be thought up. The pre-printed instructions on the box of powdered formula were improved upon and the standard steps of diaper changing verbally walked through in painstaking detail. Permission was requested - and flatly denied - for Fai to be able to nose around in Kurogane's bag if he needed clean baby clothes. Instead Kurogane rummaged through his own belongings once the dishes were done, and laid out some more onesies and frilly winter wear on his bed.

On impulse he told Fai on the way to the garage that if something terrible did in fact happen, to call 911 first and only call him once the operator told him he could hang up. It was a sound piece of advice along the lines of "in the event of a loss of cabin pressure aboard the airplane, make sure to secure your own air mask first before helping your children", but having this extra bit of wisdom pressed upon him unfortunately made Fai paranoid all over again, and it took a few minutes to convince him that the odds of his needing said advice were next to nil.

While Kurogane put on his coat and laced up his boots, Fai added his own number to the dark-haired man's cell phone and strung a spare key to the cabin on his keyring, solemnly declaring that it was necessary in case Fai became incapacitated somehow - _"How?!" "I don't know; somehow!"_ \- and Kurogane had to break in so that he could rescue the baby. They parted at the inner garage door in a flurry of last-minute instructions shouted across several feet of chilly air.

"Drive safe!"

"Just take a nap; you'll be fine!"

"Please hurry back! But safely!"

"Get back inside already! I've got the garage door clicker."

"Love you, bye!"

Kurogane slammed the car door shut and began backing out of the garage.

To cut down the amount of time he would need to be away from the cabin, Kurogane had made some calls before heading out. The sheriff in Elk Ridge, a no-nonsense but kindly older man with whom he was on good terms, had agreed to sniff out a carseat for him and find out details about the road closure after hearing a super-brief summary of the shopkeeper's recent adventures. With the sheriff taking care of most of the legwork for him, Kurogane first stopped by his home instead of heading directly into town.

The shed with emergency supplies was looked into first. Nothing had been disturbed, and he left the signs explaining his absence where they were. He spent a bit more time in the store itself, but only to check messages. He'd packed well enough initially that he had no need of more clothing or supplies, either for himself or the infant. Before locking up again, he poked his head into the rooms upstairs to make sure everything was as it ought to be. Not that he really thought there was a good chance a fox had snuck in somehow and was making a nest out of his blankets, but he was a thorough sort of person.

The top floor was undisturbed, as he expected, and somehow too quiet, which was strange. His own room didn't give him any unease but he stood a while in the hallway, listening for something that wasn't really supposed to be there and looking almost expectantly at closed doors to empty rooms. Eventually he shook off the funny feeling and forced himself back downstairs and out the door.

He made short work of the errands to Elk Ridge, not even turning his car off while the sheriff got him caught up on goings-on during the storm and how efforts to reopen the road down were proceeding. Kurogane listened while he worked on getting the carseat strapped in properly, paying close attention to the little level on the side and trying not to remember the last time he'd done this. He declined a coffee and drove off as soon as he could.

A buzz from his phone had him pulling over quickly, almost nosing the car into a snowbank and cursing his seatbelt as he strained too quickly against it to dig at his pocket. And then he cursed again, but this time at Fai, because the incoming message was nothing more than a photograph of the two blonds smiling up at the camera on Fai's smartphone. He started typing an unappreciative message back but then deleted it, not wanting to get caught up in some stupid text message banter when he could be driving back up to the cabin.

Kurogane put the phone in one of the cupholders and started off again. It vibrated a couple more times but a quick glance at his phone revealed that the incoming messages were only more photographs showcasing a contented infant, so he just kept driving and soon he was pulling back into the garage. The inner door swung open and Fai peeped out, surprised and smiling at first and then putting on a ridiculous pout.

"Did you get the photos?"

"Yeah."

"Couldn't you at least send me a 'k, thanks'? I was starting to worry that you'd gotten stuck in a snowbank somewhere."

He almost had, but that was Fai's fault and nothing he wanted to get into.

"I'm back early," Kurogane pointed out. "Most people wait until someone's at least a few hours late before calling the National Guard. Where is she, anyway?" After answering that their kitten was taking a nap on the living room floor, Fai began detailing how he was not 'most people'. It was something the shopkeeper could certainly agree with, but Kurogane interrupted at the first opportunity to get the conversation back to practical matters.

"Anyway," he butted in while stopping at the doormat to scrape packed snow out of the ridges in his boots, "I got a carseat for her and the road's supposed to be cleared this afternoon."

"So soon?" Fai asked. The level of concern in his tone was frankly more suited for being told that the rockslide had been so catastrophic that they were stranded up here for at least another month.

"Seems it was mostly brush and snow, not boulders," Kurogane explained dismissively, and then went on to give options for the remainder of the day. He stepped inside but stayed in the tiled laundry room and kept his coat on as well, making it clear that he wasn't settling in for an extended stay. "It's still early so I'm going to go back and open up shop. Do you want me to take her with me?"

He hadn't expected this suggestion to go over all that well, to be honest, and so Fai's frown came as no surprise. The blond seemed very much attached to the little bundle that fate had dropped into their lives, and hadn't once treated babysitting as an onerous chore he would be glad to be done with. Letting Kurogane take care of her was a reasonable and logical offer, however, and so he had deemed it right to make it, despite how reason and logic didn't really seem to be best friends with the hotelier.

"No," Fai said slowly, as if looking for a third option beyond "yes" and "no". He thought of one after only a second or two and queried somewhat hesitantly, "Can we just come with you?"

"I suppose," Kurogane replied easily enough, shrugging carelessly. "But didn't you come up here so you could spend some time alone in this getaway of yours? I can just drive my own car back and take her with me, and you can get started on your vacation."

"It's not really a vacation," Fai said after a long pause. His tone was still subdued, and Kurogane found himself watching the other man carefully, as if looking for signs or warnings. Of what, he had no idea. No details were forthcoming, however. After another hesitation Fai only added, "I didn't have anything specific I wanted to do while I was here, like write a novel or paint a masterpiece. And well, I think you'll agree with me that circumstances have obviously changed. I'd much rather play with Little Kitty here, and spend more time with you."

Kurogane did in fact agree; circumstances had definitely changed. The blond wasn't just one of those corrupt Fluorites who had a cabin up the mountain; he was now Fai, who was a bit too silly, surprisingly warm-hearted and whom Kurogane was seriously considering being serious about. In hindsight his offer to take the infant off of Fai's hands entirely might have seemed like an offer to back out of this budding relationship and reboot the strange scenario in which they'd been thrown together by a suddenly snowstorm and a misplaced baby, and he found himself glad that the other man hadn't taken him up on it.

As if in penance for his almost-backslide, Kurogane switched gears and set off in the exact opposite direction.

"I'll box up the baby stuff, then, and get her strapped into the carseat," he said briskly. "Go pack an overnight bag. I'd rather leave straight from my place in the morning." His abrupt about-face seemed to give Fai brain-whiplash. Big blue eyes blinked at him in surprise, and instead of moving to do as he was bid, the man froze in the doorway to the hall, keeping them trapped in the laundry room.

"You're letting me stay over?" Fai queried, clearly doubting his own ears. Or the stability of reality.

"You might as well," Kurogane replied, trying to sound matter-of-fact about inviting the man to invade not just his store, but his home. And bed, since he only had the one, and while he couldn't match the hotelier in hospitality he certainly wasn't going to make the man sleeping bag it on the floor. He might have two days ago, but that was two days ago.

"It'll save on gas," he added, "plus I want you alert tomorrow so you can watch her for me and you don't seem to sleep unless you've got a warm body nearby." He made a shooing gesture then, trying to dislodge Fai from the doorway.

The blond unfroze and scampered away toward the stairs, though not without a backwards glance that seemed to say that he wasn't entirely convinced that this wasn't some ploy of Kurogane's to get him out of the way so that the hotelier could sneak the baby out of the cabin and drive off while Fai was upstairs packing. A scoffing sort of sound escaped Kurogane and then he turned to the kitchen after taking a detour into the living room to check on the infant. He gathered up everything that remained of the baby supplies and put it back into one of the cardboard boxes, then did the same in the bathroom and bedroom.

Fai came down with a small suitcase in time to assist in loading the boxes into the car. Kurogane attempted to put his stripped-down bed back into some semblance of normalcy but Fai waved him off of the task.

"I'm not expecting any other guests, silly bear," he laughed. "The staff will take care of it all when I leave anyway, so don't worry about it."

Kurogane considered contesting the matter but capitulated after only a second or two of internally marshaling arguments. There were more important things that needed doing, and if Fai could maintain his inner peace despite the knowledge that there was an unkempt bed in his cabin, then so be it. After a cursory look around to make sure he hadn't left hair in the shower or socks under the bed, Kurogane carefully scooped the still-slumbering baby up, leaving the doggy bed for Fai to transport. He tried to be gentle in transferring her to the carseat, but she didn't seem to think much of the straps or the boring view of the seatbacks in the back of the Audi, and began to mewl unhappily.

"I think our little kitten preferred the laundry basket," Fai said skeptically, squirming in under Kurogane's arm to tug at the belts with one finger. As if he knew anything about how tight they needed to be.

" _I_ would have preferred not having to drive a baby around in a laundry basket _ever_ ," Kurogane retorted, elbowing Fai out of the way - gently, sort of - so that he could shut the door.

"You're not entirely sorry that you had to though, are you?" Fai asked, and while his tone was light and teasing, there was a tiny little worry-wrinkle marring his forehead.

A chilly garage was no place for conversations about relationships that weren't even official yet, especially with a whining baby in the car, and besides which the question wasn't anywhere near serious enough to require a lengthy response. It did seem to deserve some sort of reassurance however, or at least Kurogane had the nagging feeling that it did. He couldn't think of anything to really say though, and ended up surprising himself slightly when he realized he'd reached up to tangle his fingers in the blond strands curling softly over the edge of Fai's hood. Before the gesture evolved into something more obviously affectionate like a gentle tug while he leaned in to press a kiss against cheek or temple, he turned it into a quick muss.

"Just get in the car," he grumped.


	14. Sleepover at Kurogane's shop

While snowed in at the cabin, time had flowed by almost unmarked. Kurogane had glanced at clocks now and again, but once having noted the time he'd not really done much with the knowledge. Day had melted into night with hardly any difference in visibility at the windows, and having their only responsibilities dictated to them by an infant with no regular schedule had contributed to the sense that hours and minutes hardly mattered.

This easy non-pace had been a drastic change from his usual routine even apart from having two attention-grabbing strangers thrown into the mix, and he felt a strange clumsiness while running around his home, as if he'd flown thousands of miles instead of driven just a few and was now jet-lagged. There was also the fact that he wasn't merely opening up his shop again after a short absence; he was busy unpacking from his stay at Fai's cabin, digging out Tomoyo's old playpen and crib from the attic, and constantly having to stomp back downstairs whenever Fai called up to him that a customer needed to be rung up.

Finding simple and succinct ways to field the curious questions that customers had about the two blonds in his shop also added a bit to the stress and strain. The simple truth had enough drama and mystery on its own but if he wasn't quick enough to explain, Fai would happily butt in to tell the tale in his own outlandishly embellished way. The infant wasn't any help in hurrying customers out the door either. She charmed most of them into lingering, in fact, with her happy coos and burbles, and Fai spun romances while she held them captive.

Kurogane began walking all purchases to the door after he'd bagged them just to lure his customers away from Fai's fairytales.

After the third such interruption Fai suggested that he be allowed to man the register instead of simply serving as a door chime. Once the playpen was vigorously scrubbed down and set up near the counter, Kurogane agreed.

"Stop telling everyone these crazy stories, don't forget to give people their receipts, and when you put her in the playpen, be careful of her head and watch your grip," the shopkeeper said sternly, pausing in the doorway on his way back upstairs to wrestle with the crib that was currently looking more like a pile of firewood than a piece of furniture. "Might be awkward leaning in all the way to set her down, so just...you know. Be careful."

He got a cheery "yes bossy-bear" to the first two items but at the last bit Fai blinked and then gave him an amused look.

"First you want to leave me alone with her at my place, and now you're acting like this is the first time I've held her," the blond commented with a light laugh. "Is this part of the territorial instinct of a papa bear back in his own cave?"

Kurogane gave his host-turned-guest a good glower and then stalked off.

The remainder of the afternoon produced a goodly amount of work from both men. When Kurogane finally turned off the lights upstairs, he left behind him a dusted, vacuumed and polished guest room featuring a sturdy crib rigged out in freshly laundered linens patterned in tiny violets and little gold dots. In hindsight he supposed he could have just lugged the playpen upstairs and let her spend the night in that, but by the time he'd thought of it the pieces of Tomoyo's crib had already been unwrapped and wiped down, and it had seemed like a waste of good work to just wrap it all up again. One of the cushions from the couch in Kurogane's bedroom had been repurposed as a changing pad and now sat in a corner near a lamp, covered with a towel and then a baby blanket. Some of the diapers and wipes he'd taken to Fai's cabin had been re-deployed next to the cushion, along with a dustbin.

There had been a rocking chair in the attic too, but he'd left that wrapped up. There were too many memories steeped into the wood of it, too many visions of his mother and sister lurking under the quilts and plastic for him to want to expose the chair to the light and himself to remembering. It would have made the room too home-like, too, as if the infant were here to stay instead of merely spending the night.

He was finding himself amenable to change, but not to dreams that would vanish too soon and leave him with long-lingering regrets. He'd rebuffed Fai's first attempts to make some sort of connection on the grounds that it could not last, but had found himself admitting he'd been wrong. There was a chance he could keep the man in his life, if they continued to find each other compatible and were both willing to put the necessary effort into it. The same could hardly be hoped for the infant, however, and he found himself trying to distinguish the fuzzy line between caring for her and caring too much about her.

While Kurogane had been occupied both physically and mentally on the second floor, Fai had been keeping decently busy downstairs as well. Kurogane had checked in a few times while tending to the washer or dryer but the hotelier had been acquitting himself well on each occasion as a competent - if somewhat chatty - cashier and a responsible babysitter. The little girl had been kept safe, warm, clean, and decently entertained, and had only demanded one feeding, luckily at a time when the store had been empty of customers. It had even amused Kurogane somewhat to discover Fai adamantly refusing to let anyone else hold the infant for even one second. Apparently he wasn't the only one feeling protective and possessive of the child.

"Our little kitten's looking a little droopy," Fai now noted as Kurogane stepped into the storefront. The blond frowned thoughtfully down at the quiescent little bundle in his arms while Kurogane leaned in to get a better look at her. She was quiet but not flushed and drowsy, and while she probably wouldn't fight a nap she didn't seem as if she'd get unduly fussy if kept up either.

"See if you can keep her awake while I get dinner on the table," he suggested. "If we can keep her from napping now maybe she'll sleep longer at night and we'll both be rested up for the drive." The blond head near his shoulder nodded amiably and the conversation should have ended there, but Kurogane couldn't help adding another tidbit of obviousness.

"If she gets cranky about it go ahead and let her sleep, of course."

"Yes Papa Bear," Fai replied, and Kurogane stalked off to the kitchen while grumbling about smart-ass storks and their stupid smirks.

Continued responsibility for the storefront and tending to the little girl prevented Fai from making even a cursory offer to help with dinner, and the resulting peace and quiet did much toward restoring Kurogane's mood. Cooking in his own kitchen was familiar and routine even though he was making double portions and dressing things up a bit more than usual, and helped him to finally feel like he was settled back into his home. He could turn on the stove without looking at the knobs, put his hands on the salt shaker without opening every cabinet looking for it, and when there was nothing to do but wait for the food to finish cooking, could lean against the counter and simply be at ease.

At the cabin he'd been treading unfamiliar ground in every way he could think of to name but now he was home again and able to feel a little more in control, or at least as if he had regained some perspective. Finding that he wasn't seriously interested in backing out of the decisions and concessions he'd made at the cabin gave him pause, but not for too long. It was even reassuring in a way, to know that he hadn't just been influenced by the strange situation and setting, letting himself be neatly manipulated by this no-longer-a-stranger who had an inexplicable but indisputable talent for getting under his skin.

He hadn't been under a spell spun by a sweet little infant and bewitching blue eyes while they were all trapped in an enchanted cabin. Perhaps the shock of the setting and situation had been conducive, necessary even, to make him understand that he'd outgrown his current life, but once their influence had been removed there had been no glamour broken, no cold sick realization that he'd entangled himself unwittingly. Like any change, this decision to move on with his life would take time to get comfortable in, but he was in fact going to put effort into getting comfortable with it.

Mulling this over passed the time needed for the food to finish cooking. The meal that Kurogane eventually put on the table was a simple chicken dish accompanied by baked Brussels sprouts and parsnips redolent with garlic, piled atop a rice pilaf. Two days of sharing meals had given Kurogane a good idea of how much the man ate - enough to make him wonder at how scrawny Fai was - and the shopkeeper went ahead and plated everything at the stove before calling Fai into the open area beyond the office that served as kitchen and dining room both.

Dinner proceeded fairly smoothly with the infant warbling contentedly in the relocated playpen while the adults ate, and the conversation stayed light instead of straying into too-serious topics or sudden debates. There were a few interruptions in the form of Kurogane having to get up to attend to customers, resulting in a need to explain to Fai that while the store was technically closed, as long as he was on site he always did his best to provide whatever it was that people were looking for. It was a contest between his convenience and a customer's real need, which was no contest at all. Certainly, he could have chosen to be firm about keeping his doors closed after seven o'clock in the evening and make people drive the extra distance into Elk Ridge or wait until the next morning for supplies. But then his own food would have been spoilt with the taste of shirked responsibilities and his own chair impossible to get comfortable in.

"And yet you would have abandoned Little Kitty to my tender mercies this morning," Fai quipped, shaking a forkful of sprout at him.

"She would have been fine. You're good with her."

"Just two days and you already trust me?" came the query, delivered teasingly but with blue eyes fixed intently on the dark-haired man's face, waiting the reply.

"I trust _myself_ ," he retorted, "and my instincts tell me you're good where it counts." If not he certainly wouldn't have been considering phone calls and first - no, second - dates. What they didn't know about each other still far outweighed what they'd learned, but Kurogane felt that he'd seen enough to make wagers on the future.

The very simple compliment was apparently unexpected but obviously pleasing; the blond blinked and then gave a funny little shrug-and-squirm as if attempting to wrestle down a ticklish feeling in his stomach. A faint flush rode high on his cheeks now but instead of getting mushy, Fai kept up with the banter, which Kurogane appreciated. He supposed he had what some people might consider romantic ideals, but he wasn't a flowers and poetry sort by any means. 

"Am I bad where it doesn't count?" Fai laughed.

"You're different, that's for hell sure," Kurogane said wryly. "But I guess that's good. If you'd been run-of-the-mill I probably wouldn't have been interested."

"Oh dear. Note to self; keep things interesting to prevent the grizzly bear from straying."

It was a comment that could have meant any number of things, and most of them fairly innocent. But there was a hint of wickedness in the gleam of Fai's eyes and tucked into the edges of his grin that put Kurogane on alert. He frowned at the other man over the rim of his water glass.

"Oi, don't get any weird ideas. Your baseline's far enough from average for me. I'll let you know if I get bored."

"Ah, so...you don't want me to greet you at the door one day, wearing the Hello Kitty apron? _Just_ the Hello Kitty apron, I mean."

Kurogane's expression grew outright worried and then he scrunched his eyes shut as if wincing in pain. Or perhaps attempting to chant away the mental image.

"No. No I do not," he said very slowly and clearly, setting down his drink so that he could massage out the wrinkles gathered between his eyebrows.

"Hm. Judging from your reaction, the French maid outfit is clearly out as well."

"I may have been wrong about the you being good thing."

Fai laughed, light, bright and clear, filling the room with a cheerfulness it hadn't paid witness to in years. Kurogane took the laughter as proof that Fai had just been joking about the maid outfit and did not press for confirmation. He really didn't want to risk finding out that the truth was actually the reverse or spend the rest of dinnertime being teased with descriptions of what the blond considered effective tactics in keeping a romance alive.

Despite this brief - and mildly alarming - interlude their post-dinner activities were actually more along the lines of Kurogane's idea of a happy relationship and not anything more out of the ordinary. Instead of splitting up to attend to necessary chores, they stuck together, falling into tasks naturally as if they'd already had time enough to work out a rhythm of their own. They both cleared the table, Kurogane working one-handed as he was carrying the infant. Fai prepared a bottle for the baby and the two of them switched off between cleaning and babysitting as the little girl was fed, burped, changed and bathed. Afterwards, Kurogane began shutting down the shop in earnest while Fai trailed after him everywhere, cuddling the baby and asking random questions.

"Aren't you going to turn off the outside lights too?"

"That'd be a shitty thing to do to someone trying to find the place at night."

"Doesn't everyone around here know you're closed at night?"

"Yeah and they also know that if they need something bad enough I'll let 'em in."

Fai pondered this over, frowning at the front door. Apparently he'd visualized Kurogane sleepily opening the doors for anyone and everyone who might venture out to the store in the dead of night, for his next question was tinged with concern.

"What if it's someone wanting to rob you?"

"Does this look like a corner gas station in the bad part of town?" Kurogane snorted. "Besides, if I don't like the look of things I can always come to the door with a rifle. Tends to sober up the drunk teenagers right quick."

Kurogane had to answer for the weapon being safely locked up next, as if their little ward was a too-curious child instead of an infant who couldn't even creep about yet. After curtly answering some questions about whether or not he'd ever fired the rifle and if he was any good with it (paper targets on a monthly basis, and some of said targets held a place of honor on the wall of the firing range), Kurogane herded the hotelier and infant upstairs.

The baby was tucked into pajamas so fleecy and fluffy that it seemed that she would have difficulty moving her limbs. Fai declared that the only thing saving her from looking like a marshmallow were the little pink cats chasing embroidered butterflies all over the material as he picked her up. He then paused, tilting his head quizzically at the shopkeeper who was leaning over and practically into the crib.

"What _are_ you doing?" Fai finally asked, peering into the crib to get a better look at Kurogane, who was diligently scrubbing his hand against a perfectly pristine section of bed sheet.

"Warming up the mattress a little," Kurogane replied matter-of-factly. "She's already halfway asleep; don't want her to wake back up because the sheets are cold."

Instead of solemnly filing away this bit of wisdom, Fai instead took it as yet another sign that Kurogane was the most adorable papa bear in all the world and began quietly wheedling for another promise of marriage while the infant was being carefully laid down in her bed. The taller ignored or brushed off most of the overtures while he watched the baby take in her new settings, but one comment in particular brought his head snapping back around.

"You could always divorce me later if it doesn't work out?" Fai suggested.

Kurogane gave the other man a glare hot enough to actually make him flinch.

"When in the last two days did I give you the impression that I support disposable relationships?" he growled.

"You didn't," Fai hastily replied, eyes wide and hands waving back and forth in front of him. "In fact it's rather the opposite I was banking on. I figured if I could trick you into marrying me I'd have you for life, because you wouldn't give up on me for anything, would you." All the outrageous part of this answer was delivered in a tone clearly marking it as a joke, but the last part was more serious and capped off with a warm smile, making Kurogane huff and turn his attention back to the baby.

"You tricked me into a date; you can't trick me into marrying you."

"Challenge accepted," Fai declared happily, and Kurogane rolled his eyes.

"Let's go," he said, switching subjects from idiotic to pragmatic and jerking his head toward the door. "She's not going to fall asleep with us yapping over her head."

"We're just going to leave her in the dark?" Fai queried anxiously, stopping in his tracks. Kurogane gave him a nudge.

"She's spent most of her life in the dark; she's fine."

"But she's not even asleep yet."

"She'll probably fall asleep as soon as she gets bored."

"But what if she gets scared instead?"

"You can pick her up if she cries," Kurogane said, impatiently giving Fai another nudge. "Come on, out. Stare at her from the doorway if you want. I'm going to take a shower."

Instead of peeping at the infant as suggested, Fai trailed him into his own room at a short distance and got a microscopic tour. He'd already seen the room, of course, but Kurogane felt the need to give him official permission to be in it.

"Couch, television, books," he pointed out while rummaging for a change of clothes. "The kitchen's where you left it and there's another bathroom downstairs across from the office. Make yourself at home." He paused on his way out the door, a thought striking him.

"I am leaving the bathroom door unlocked," he stated, jabbing a finger at the blond who waggled an eyebrow at him, "but if you barge in and someone's not bleeding or on fire you're sleeping in the garage."

"Understood," Fai replied with cheerful unconcern, and then plunked himself down on the couch and gave a good impression of a small child doing their best to look perfectly obedient and mannerly. Kurogane scoffed and headed for the bathroom, resisting the impulse to peek back into his room to see if Fai was already on his feet and headed for mischief.

Not longer afterwards, Kurogane reappeared, hair still a bit soggy and his regular clothing traded away for a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of sweatpants. While Fai's little suitcase was still sitting neatly in a corner of his room, the blond himself had disappeared. It didn't take long to find him; Kurogane stepped back down the hall to the nursery and found the other man crouched down next to the crib, peering intently through the bars like the most non-threatening gargoyle ever to be carved.

Kurogane walked up next to him to check on the infant as well. She was still right where he'd left her and fast asleep, little arms outflung and cheeks rosy-red. On impulse he reached into the crib and gently cupped her tiny skull in his palm, reveling in that almost-forgotten sensation of wispy-fine hair and damp heat. The baby stuttered in a deep breath and then let it out in a long sigh, and it was such a sweet, aching, familiar sight that he just stood there a moment instead of pulling away again as he'd intended.

He stayed put even when he saw Fai shift in his peripheral vision, knowing that he was getting caught with a ridiculous smile on his face but unable to help it or even care just then. Kurogane only lifted his hand away from the infant and got his face in order when the other man unfolded himself from his crouch and stood up. The blond manifested well within his personal space since Kurogane had practically trod on him in order to get a good viewing spot, yet somehow managed to be unobtrusive. He stood close enough that it felt like he was cuddling up, but didn't make it obvious by attempting to slink a hand through Kurogane's elbow or any such thing. Instead he simply stood there, sharing the peaceful atmosphere and eventually shifting his focus back to the infant.

Neither man spoke but the silence did not sour into awkwardness, and when he'd had his fill of looking Kurogane turned away and left the room, with Fai falling right into his shadow. After closing the door halfway, Kurogane turned to his guest.

"Did you want to take a shower or anything?" he asked after a brief pause, voice just a notch down from normal conversation. He felt a little awkward, truth be told. Having a regular guest in his home would have been strange enough, and Fai wasn't exactly a random acquaintance come over for a cup of coffee and a bit of chat.

"Well, what are my options for 'anything'?" Fai returned, looking much more at ease than the man who actually lived here. Kurogane thought a moment.

"Something to drink, TV or a movie, a book, or we can just turn in now," he answered. After another second he added, "you can use my computer if you need to check email or something." Fai put one finger on his lips and pondered his choices a while.

"I'll just take a shower in the morning," Fai decided. "It'll wake me up. And thank you for the offer of your computer, but I've got my phone so I'm all set. Vegging in front of the television for a little bit sounds nice though, assuming that you're going to share the remaining couch cushion with me."

Kurogane shrugged his assent and within a few minutes was snugly wedged into one corner of the couch in his room, arms splayed out over the back and one side while Fai somehow managed to find a comfortable way to snuggle up on the remaining sliver of cushion. After Kurogane declared that he did not care at all what they watched so long as it wasn't a reality show full of spoiled teenagers, Fai channel surfed through all options twice and then finally settled on a police drama.

The plot was interesting enough to keep Kurogane awake and Fai's mouth sealed except for little occasional plot point triggered outbursts where he made guesses as to whodunnit and whydiddit, and oddly enough he continued quiescent during commercial breaks as well. Though Kurogane knew well enough by now that the man could in fact sit still for periods of time, somehow he'd expected him to want to fill the uninteresting gaps with chatter.

"You're quiet," Kurogane commented, when the credits rolled and a preview of the next show popped up.

"Hm? Oh, just a little tired, maybe," Fai replied, squirming within the loose circle of Kurogane's arm to give him a reassuring smile, as if the taller had been expressing concern instead of simple curiosity. The shopkeeper had in fact been wondering if the blond was moping over the prospect of saying goodbye to their little charge the next day and it was something of a relief to know that the answer was much simpler.

"That's what happens when you don't sleep, dumbass," Kurogane said, though his tone was a little too sleepily contented to convey much scorn. "It's getting late. Might as well turn in." He tugged the remote control out of Fai's hand and turned off the television, and nudged the blond off the couch by the simple expedient of standing up as if the other man wasn't halfway draped over him.

"By the by, where exactly am I turning in to?" Fai queried. "Are we reconstructing the couch, or...?"

"You're almost as tall as I am; you'd wake up with your whole back tied in knots," Kurogane replied, amused by the mental image of his guest trying to sleep on the narrow couch. He'd either have to curl up in a corner and will himself not to fall off or sleep with his legs spilling over one couch arm. It was a comfortable enough bit of furniture for one or two people to lounge around on but only made a serviceable sleeping place if you were under four feet tall.

"We can share the bed," Kurogane continued. "I've also got sleeping bags and another couch downstairs, but I figured you wouldn't mind since I've woken up with you _in_ my bed already."

Fai went wide-eyed at the apparently unexpected invitation to bunk together but shook his surprise off to give his host a slow smile.

"Very true, but we had Little Kitty to play chaperone then," he pointed out. "You just invited me to sleep with _just_ you, naughty old bear."

"I'll go get a sleeping bag from the attic," Kurogane said with a put-upon sigh, at which Fai laughed and clasped his hands together under his chin.

"No no, I'll be good!" he exclaimed in a sort of whisper-shout. "I promise to keep my hands to myself."

Kurogane paused halfway to the door and raised an eyebrow at him, clearly doubtful.

"And my mouth," Fai added. Kurogane supposed that little addendum was meant to have been reassuring but it only made him startle a bit as his mind supplied a quick slide show of ways Fai could have severely encroached on his personal space without using his hands at all. He couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he just shook his head and stalked off to go brush his teeth.

Fai took a bit more time in the restroom when it was his turn, and by the time he'd completed whatever his nighttime routine was, Kurogane had turned off all the upstairs lights except the one in the hall, set his alarm and gotten into bed. He'd added an extra pillow from the closet and moved a bit further from the center of the mattress than was usual in consideration of his guest, but otherwise was as he usually was; slightly curled up on his side with one arm tucked under his pillow. His eyes were closed and they stayed that way even when he heard the bathroom door open, followed by the soft padding of sock feet over the hardwood floor and then the creak of the mattress dipping under Fai's weight.

There was a bit of squirming and blanket-tugging and pillow-poking, and then a few seconds after Fai finally settled down, a soft whisper.

"Are you pretending that you're already asleep so you don't have to deal with me whining for a goodnight kiss?"

"Maybe," Kurogane mumbled back, stubbornly keeping his eyes closed. Fai actually giggled, and Kurogane found himself opening his eyes just to give the other man an incredulous look.

"Ah! You're awake after all." As well as Kurogane could tell in the dimly lit room, Fai looked like it was Christmas morning and he was only seven years old. "Shall I commence whining or are you going to take the initiative?"

"Why am I always the one doing all the work here?" Kurogane grumbled, partly just so that he didn't have to give in to demands too quickly and partly because he'd gotten suddenly curious. This had started with a dare and except for that one kiss on the neck that hadn't worked out all that well, Fai hadn't asked for anything except to be kissed, not for permission to do so himself.

"Well," Fai drawled hesitantly, "you basically told me that kisses were rare and precious things. You don't hand them out casually like gum or waste them on unspecial occasions. I thought if I started sneaking them from you, you wouldn't like it."

The thoughtfulness and respect behind this struck Kurogane, and he just lay there for a while, looking at Fai and being stared back at in turn. He really didn't have any negative opinions or prejudices against the man any longer, but he hadn't exactly been giving him credit for being a saint either. This additional insight into who Fai was underneath the smiles and silliness was a surprise, but of course a pleasant one.

"Oh," Kurogane finally said, when he realized that he ought to respond somehow. "...thanks." Fai smiled at this, not just polite but truly pleased if the way he curled up as if to hug himself was any indication.

"It's fine, by the way," the shopkeeper added. "Like...greetings. Good morning, good night, that sort of thing."

A decisive, "well then" was all the warning Kurogane got before the blond heaved himself half upright and then leaned quickly in. He found himself anticipating a kiss on or very near the lips, and the quick peck on his forehead actually surprised a huff of laughter out of him, especially as Fai ended up rearing back and snuffling a bit as Kurogane's short hair tickled his nose.

"Good night, sweet dreams," Fai chirped quietly, grinning and rubbing at his nose as he flopped back down.

"Night."

"Oh wait wait, can I ask one more question?"

"Can it wait until morning?" Kurogane sighed.

"Nope, it'll keep me up aaall night," Fai replied flippantly. Kurogane had serious doubts on this score, however he thought it not unlikely that the blond would see nothing wrong in attempting to pester the answer out of his host with persistent questions and possibly ridiculous teasing and whining.

"What?" he asked, his voice resigned.

"Why in the world do you have such a gigantic bed if you're single?" There was only amusement and curiosity in the question so far as Kurogane could tell, not suspicion, so he answered it as simply as it had been asked.

"I got a California king mattress because it's the longest," Kurogane replied. "My feet are too close to the edge in regular beds."

"Ah, makes sense. Yuui and I sleep on a regular old king size mattress, but then we're not quite as tall as you."

"You still sleep with your brother?" Kurogane blurted, startled into nearly normal volume, and Fai burst into laughter that he had to quickly muffle in his forearm.

"No, sorry, I should have said that Yuui and I _each_ sleep in a regular king bed," he explained, after getting rid of a mouthful of pajama sleeve. "We do share a room, though. When we opened the Sand Dollar we decided that having one more bedroom available for guests was worth giving up a little bit of privacy for ourselves. And really, running the place with just the two of us keeps us so busy that we hardly miss having a room of our own. Either our free time doesn't overlap or we want to relax together anyway."

"Wait, hold on," Kurogane interrupted, getting more and more lost the longer Fai talked. Nothing new, really. "The hell is the Sand Dollar?"

"What do you mean? Didn't you say that you knew who I was and what I do?" Fai replied, beginning to share Kurogane's look of confusion. "The Sand Dollar. It's the bed and breakfast in Seal Cove that I run with my brother."

"A b-and-b?" Kurogane queried, coming up on one elbow to peer down at his bedmate. "I thought you were one of those Fluorite hotel Fluorites." Fai remained silent and still for a few beats and then shuffled up into a sitting position as well. Kurogane pushed himself up further and narrowed his eyes at that shadowed face, hoping for clues but not finding any.

"We are," Fai said, and then after a long pause, added, "Is that why it was hate at first sight for you?"

Kurogane had to blink that one over.

"What are you talking about?"

"Two days ago I thought you looked like my next birthday present but _you_ looked at _me_ like...I don't know, a dentist appointment reminder? Sometimes I figured that's just the way you are with strangers but you've also said some things about 'city people', so..."

"I didn't hate you," Kurogane protested. It sounded too petty and prejudiced for him to want to admit how close to the truth it was.

"Is it a problem?" Fai asked, persisting. "Who we are? Or at least, who our family is?"

"No it's fine. Look, I don't care," Kurogane said, but Fai kept on as if he hadn't spoken.

"It's just a name, now. We were born into the Fluorite Hotel family and raised in it, but as soon as we were old enough, we left. Officially. Money changed hands, papers were signed. We can't change our DNA but so far as that family is concerned we're dead. We're not celebrities. We make sure to live quietly and stay out of all the family drama so you won't have to deal with reporters snapping your picture or mmphm hm hmm."

Kurogane muzzled the stream of babble with one hand once the explanation turned into reassurances that he didn't need. At least not anymore. Three days ago if asked if he'd consider dating a Fluorite his answer would have been an emphatic "hell no" and much of the horror around the idea would have been tangled up in thoughts of paparazzi and tabloids and crimes covered up with cash. But now that he was coming to know Fai for the person he was instead of the family he came from, Kurogane could see with clearer vision what a relationship with the man meant; cell phone selfies instead of photographs snapped by reporters, entertaining conversations and debates around the dinner table instead of newspaper articles, and the only crimes being the stealing of blankets and bites of food.

"I said I don't care," he reiterated slowly and clearly. "It's fine. I'm not dating your family; just you."

Fai swayed back a half inch, which freed up his mouth since Kurogane hadn't actually been applying any real pressure, and then lightly batted the shopkeeper's hand down.

"So we _are_ dating?" he asked, perking up.

A few seconds ticked by as Kurogane reviewed what he'd just said and looked back at little moments from the past forty-eight hours, memories flashing by his mind's eye more quickly than any one of them could be articulated in words. At first he couldn't think of how to sum up the about-face he'd done in how he thought of and viewed and _looked at_ this man gazing at him expectantly and excitedly and endearingly, and then realized that he could in just one word.

"Yeah," he replied, shrugging as if that little act could dislodge the faint embarrassment tickling at him. Fai took in a quick breath that seemed like a preparatory act preceding a cheer or declaration of some sort, and so Kurogane attempted to head it off.

"And we are also taking care of a baby who needs to be driven to Mercy tomorrow, so good night," Kurogane said firmly, but softened the abrupt conversation-killer by belatedly returning the goodnight kiss he'd been given. One hand was still hovering a bit so he brought it up again, curling his fingers around Fai's neck to tug them closer together. The way he was slouched on the bed and the fact that he needed to lean over a bit cancelled his height advantage, and he ended up brushing his lips across the side of Fai's face instead of returning the earlier forehead kiss.

He didn't linger, pulling away and settling back down on his pillow after just a brief moment of contact. In the bit of light from the hall he could see Fai staring down at him in surprise and then breaking into a smile so bright it ought to have lit up the bedroom.

"I've been upgraded to cheek kisses, too," Fai noted happily. "This _is_ getting serious."

"You're getting downgraded to the floor if you don't shut up and go to sleep."

"Grumpy old bear," the blond complained, but he was still grinning madly as he wriggled back under the blankets. Kurogane rolled his eyes and then rolled over, turning his back on his bedmate. It wasn't even a full minute later that he felt the other man nuzzle up between his shoulderblades, soft bangs tickling at the skin just above his collar, but he made no move or comment, and this time Fai didn't call him out on feigning sleep.


	15. The drive to Mercy finally happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fairy tale that Fai refers to in this chapter is "Snow White and Rose Red", not "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves". Also if you read this chapter already on my Dreamwidth site, I wanted to let you know that that was only the draft copy. The finalized version wasn't posted here or to Dreamwidth until today. No major changes; just some extra Kurogane introspection and smoothed out sentences. Thank you!

He had something to hold on to again, and it was good. Not just a good thing in principle, but _good_.

He'd needed this, he realized now. He hadn't been made nor raised to be a lone wolf and it had been a mistake to act like he was one. Having a helpless little infant dumped on him by fate and a fair-haired stranger had been an excellent eye-opener to the fact that he yearned for someone to care for again. That had just been the first little snowball, though. The entire avalanche promising to sweep his current lifestyle away - and it was welcome to do so despite some natural trepidation on his part - was acknowledging that he didn't just want something to care for. If that was all he wanted, he could very well have gone down to the local animal shelter and rescued a dog.

No, what he really wanted was more reciprocal in nature, not a simple desire to possess a thing like a dragon gloating over treasure. He wanted to care for someone and be cared for as well, and not just in return but for his own sake. To be to that person what they were to him, almost separate from the fact that the feeling was mutual. To invest in someone and to find that they were making him a better person too. To protect someone and discover that the same fierce need to keep a loved one safe was burning within them as well. He needed someone who wasn't perfect but was somehow perfect for him; pleasing and perhaps perplexing yet still precious all the same.

He didn't have all of that quite yet but it was a very real possibility, a work in progress that would very likely be its own reward even if all of its potential was never fully realized. It was a good thing in principle and a good thing just on its own merits too, of making him take a good look at himself and his life, and putting a not insignificant ember aglow in his chest.

It was also warm against him, heavy in his arms and giving him that immediate comfort of knowing that it was present and real.

It was also tickling his nose.

Kurogane startled awake, and in his sleep-fuzzed state made the tactical error of hastily attempting to disentangle himself from the warm body he'd - for some God forsaken reason - gotten wrapped around in his sleep. Fai was jerked out of sleep as the arms that were serving him as pillow and blanket were jerked halfway out from under and around him, and he seemed just as disoriented as his bedmate.

"Huh? Wha?" Fai gasped, trying to open his eyes wide but struggling with sleep-heavy lids, and his breaths coming in quick and shallow.

"'S nothing," Kurogane said, voice scratchy with hours of disuse and very likely unconvincing in tone. "Go back to sleep." Belatedly he realized that there was a slender arm snug around his ribcage, further hampering his efforts to draw the two of them apart. One arm was still trapped under the hotelier, but he got his other one free and gave the blond head that he'd had his nose buried in a minute ago an awkward little pat. Some guilt over the rude awakening made him turn the gesture into more of a caress, and Fai nuzzled into his palm with a contented hum. Without any plan to hand, Kurogane pinned his hopes on the slim chance that the other man would drop back down into unconsciousness and not remember the details of this unfortunate interruption.

No such luck, however.

"Nightmare?" Fai murmured, eyes more than half-closed but his eyebrows knitting together in concern above them. The fingers tangled into the back of Kurogane's shirt unclenched and dragged up his spine to comb slowly through dark spikes of hair. Fai was much better at the soothing caress thing.

"Thought you were going to keep your hands to yourself," Kurogane commented, side-stepping the question of why he'd awoken the both of them so abruptly.

Fai chuckled, lids falling the rest of the way shut as he nuzzled into his bedmate's collar.

" _You're_ the one who rolled over and got handsy, Kurogrizzly."

"Kuro _gane_ ," he corrected, because he could think of no rebuttal to make to the claim that he'd gotten snuggly in his sleep. Logistically speaking, it was far more likely that he'd rolled over and reached out for the warmth he'd found there than that Fai had somehow managed to flip him over and wrap Kurogane's arms around himself without waking the man.

"Kurograbby," Fai responded, nodding sleepily. Well, either nodding sleepily or nosing contentedly at the hollow of Kurogane's neck. The shopkeeper snorted and plucked Fai's hand away from where it was still fingercombing through the short hair at his nape. He dropped the hand unceremoniously in the narrow space between them before steadily going about disentangling them from each other, earning some little noises of curiosity from his bedmate.

"Is it time to get up already?"

"Just want to go check on the baby," Kurogane replied, freeing himself with one final heave, shoving himself up into a sitting position and immediately breaking out in gooseflesh underneath his shirt at the way cold air rushed in to replace the body heat they'd been sharing. His bedmate seemed to feel the same loss of comfort, because instead of responding with a comment or question Fai shivered dramatically and disappeared almost entirely under the covers. Kurogane gave the shapeless mound an amused look and then got out of bed, turning slightly grumpy at the way his socks were askew on his feet but not caring enough to actually stop and straighten them out on the way to the baby's room.

The little girl was deeply asleep, not even stirring when Kurogane reached into the crib to make sure that she was warm enough. The air in the cabin was by no means freezing but it was definitely on the cool side, since the shopkeeper believed in a reasonable balance between increasing the thermostat setting and putting on thicker sweaters. The fleecy layers that he'd wrapped the baby in were doing their work, thankfully, and her cheeks were rosy and warm.

Contrary to expectations, he was joined almost immediately by his other guest. Fai sidled up right next to him and peered into the crib, tipping his head this way and that to check the infant from different angles. His shoulders were hunched up against the chill and he had his hands wrapped tight around his own arms, and after satisfying himself that the baby was fine he stood close to Kurogane as if attempting to leech some warmth. The shopkeeper eyed the other man's sparse frame, decided that it was indeed very likely Fai had trouble maintaining his own body heat since he was so bony, and allowed the closeness.

His own examination of the little girl already completed, Kurogane kept his eyes on the hotelier, studying his face as well as he could in the dimness. Fai looked drowsy, certainly, but not tired out.

"Sleep all right?" he asked quietly, and got a curious little hum and then a nod and rather blissful looking smile. Kurogane snorted.

"You're not an insomniac; you just don't like sleeping alone."

"Observant, but untrue," Fai replied easily, un-phased by the accusation. "I've been to naked sleepovers before but hardly ever managed to stay for breakfast." He'd broken eye contact while answering and now gave Kurogane a brief sidelong look and a little quirk of an eyebrow.

"You don't mind, do you?" Fai asked. "That I haven't saved myself for marriage, so to speak?"

"You wanted a kiss on day one and an engagement ring on day two; I wouldn't've believed you if you'd said you like to take things slow."

This got a breathy little laugh, but then Fai shifted around on his feet a bit, hemming and hawing over whatever it was he wished to say in reply.

"I have some...trust issues, I guess you could say; a legacy of being a 'Fluorite hotel Fluorite', as you called it. I can't get comfortable with anyone who reminds me of my relatives for whatever reason."

Kurogane mulled this over for a few seconds.

"Your own brother doesn't remind you of your family?" he asked dubiously.

"My _relatives_ ," Fai corrected him. "Yuui is my only _family_."

Kurogane just grunted by way of response, understanding the distinction even if he couldn't empathize. Fai could call it having trust issues if he wanted. Kurogane filed it away in his mind as survival instinct; the finely honed gut feelings of two siblings who'd had each other but no one else within their vast and vicious family unit. An instinct that had prompted them to break away and find a safe place for themselves as soon as they'd been able to.

Having grown up in these mountains, Kurogane could predict the weather by the way the wind smelled and the skies looked. Fai had probably learned to sniff out corruption and see the signs of cruelty from having grown up in the Fluorite empire or something along those lines. His situational insomnia was perhaps a sort of safety mechanism that reflected this.

"So Princess here and I feel safe, huh?" he asked, after gut-jumping his way through all these thoughts and conclusions faster than he could put them in words. Fai looked at him full in the face then, eyes widening in surprise and then crinkling quickly over a wide smile.

"Rose red cheeks and my big old bear. I guess that makes me Snow White," the blond quipped. "Where were you when I needed you to help me defeat the nasty old dwarf with the big grey beard?"

"What. The hell. Are you talking about?" Kurogane asked. It was entirely too early in the morning for these word games. He only got shushed and warned not to growl too loudly near the sleeping princess, however, and after a bit more snarl and sass they ended up shuffling back to bed to catch another couple of hours of sleep before the day began in earnest.

Kurogane stayed on one side of the bed as before, but when his bedmate cautiously wormed close, he slung an arm over a slender waist. Fai kept silent about it, either through wisdom or - far more likely - sleepiness, and so they drifted off quietly and quickly.

Kurogane woke up first again, but gradually this time, rising up out of sleep in gentle increments and experiencing only some vague befuddlement about the person he seemed to be smushed up against. As he blinked his eyes open and remembered all the pertinent details of what, where, why, and with whom, he took a moment to be grateful that he hadn't repeated his stupid flailing of a few hours earlier.

It struck him then, as he muzzily stared at nothing over a fluff of platinum blond, that not only had Fai fallen easily and deeply asleep again, but that he himself had had an easy sleep. Instead of clawing his way out of a nightmare, heart hammering and lungs bursting with an anguish he couldn't express, he'd simply...slept. It wasn't as if he had the same nightmare every single time he laid his head down, but it was often enough that he couldn't recall the last time he'd gotten a decent night's sleep three nights running. He'd had the dream of cries in the dark during his nap alone, that first afternoon at Fai's cabin. Since then he'd had either the infant or Fai with him in bed, and embarrassingly enough his accusation to Fai earlier seemed to apply to him more than the hotelier; he didn't do well sleeping alone.

A few seconds were enough to give him more of a realistic view of this discovery. There wasn't merely a warm body in his bed where before his home had been too empty; there was now a new presence in his heart where before there had just been the gaping hole where his family had been. His nightmares were of losing his family and being left alone to grieve. It made sense that a reminder of a possible new family would help to ward away the heartache. He'd fought against getting attached to either of the blonds, but it had been a futile endeavor where the infant was concerned despite how short a time he knew he had with her, and he'd acknowledged a possible future with Fai. There could never be a replacement for the loved ones he'd lost, but a successor was a distinct possibility.

Not just a possibility to ponder over either. For him, for the man he was, it was probably the only natural way for him to heal and move on. He hadn't the make of a hermit; he needed friends and family. Keeping everyone at more than arm's length had perhaps kept anyone from poking at his raw wounds, but on the flip side, he hadn't let anyone near enough to help him heal, either.

From these thoughts it was a quick hop over to the question of whether or not he'd go back to having nightmares once the infant was in another's care and Fai on a plane to California. Kurogane frowned and got out of bed - carefully though, so as not to disturb his bedmate - as soon as his musings took this pointless turn, setting himself to more useful things than laying around and wondering about things he could do nothing about.

Not too many minutes later, Fai woke up as well, and though he'd slept soundly so far as Kurogane could tell, seemed to wake up in a somber mood. After searching Kurogane out to give him a quiet good morning murmur, the blond spent more time brooding over the infant than in grooming and getting dressed, as if remembering all of a sudden what they had to do that day. Not wanting to get stalled by melancholy or drawn into a ridiculous conversation about ways to get away with kidnapping, Kurogane hustled the hotelier around the cabin, ordering him to help with this and that every time he caught the man moping over the baby.

While Fai cautiously but competently changed, dressed, and fed the little girl, Kurogane packed a baby bag with the necessities and also packed a canvas duffel bag full of extra baby clothes and diapers. It cost him a few pangs to deliberately let go of so many of the little outfits, heavy as they still were with the affection and pleasure and hope invested in them all those years ago, but he steadily folded and packed until the bag was full to bursting. His baby sister had no further need of them; better that he should let them go and know that they were keeping another sweet little girl warm, and fashionably so. After struggling the zipper closed, he shoved a few blankets under the handles and then headed downstairs, calling for Fai to get ready to leave.

There were no early-morning customers that day, and the only delay was occasioned by Fai deciding that he needed an absolutely ridiculous number of photos of the baby on his phone. She wasn't old enough to mug for the camera by any means, and her repertoire of facial expressions was limited to happy, neutral and crying so far as Kurogane was concerned. Fai, however, seemed to want to build a massive portfolio of all the different ways she could drool on her little fists, and once he discovered that she tended to flap her hands and laugh whenever the shopkeeper spoke to her, began taking little videos as well. Kurogane assisted in the capture of a couple of short recordings and found things to keep him busy during the extended photo shoots, but lost patience when the photographs began to involve him as well. Thankfully Fai put the phone away as soon as they were all seated in the car, and after offering half-heartedly to take a share of the driving duties, settled down soberly to his baby-watching duties.

The drive was mercifully uneventful and almost unnervingly quiet. The infant predictably drifted off early on, lulled by the constant motion and white noise, and Fai seemed to feel that her continued well being depended entirely on him maintaining eye contact with her face. A fear of distracting the driver might have also contributed to keeping the man quiet. The weather was clear but the hotelier unfamiliar with nature; it wouldn't have surprised the local man if Fai had developed a superstitious fear of making noise while in the shadow of the mountain thanks to their recent adventures.

In any case, Kurogane ended up being the one who broke the silence up with a query or two along the way to see if Fai was still awake. ( _He was; Kurogane could see him in the rear view mirror, but it was easier to gruffly demand a status report than it was to admit that he wanted the comfort of another person's voice._ ) The drive was uneventful, and they made it all the way down into the city and pulled into the Mercy Hospital parking lot without the infant ever waking up. Kurogane found it a little less of a mystery then, how Fai had managed to taxi his way up the mountain without ever realizing that there was a third occupant in the vehicle.

The blond chirped up all of a sudden as Kurogane parked the car.

"Should we let her sleep?" he asked in a near-whisper.

"We're not keeping her," Kurogane said firmly, answering the real question lurking behind the somewhat sensible one that had been spoken aloud. "Come on, I want to get this over with before you snap and actually try to run off with her."

Fai obediently unbuckled himself and hopped out of the car, but pelted him with a string of unflattering adjectives in a contrastingly light and teasing tone. Once he ran out of single words such as "heartless" and "cold", the blond switched to phrases like "utterly lacking in paternal instinct", which degraded quickly to such nonsense as "self-doomed to spend the rest of your life alone in a cave which is why you really should just accept your destiny and agree to marry me".

Kurogane ignored it all as he carefully extracted the sleep-limp little form from the car seat, tucked a fleecy blanket all around her, then slung the diaper bag he'd packed for her over one shoulder. Fai's chatter was in fact nowhere near as annoying as it ought to have been, as it helped to drown out the little arguments going on inside his own head. If not for the stream of blabber Kurogane might have had to argue against himself on the possibility that the detective sent to collect the child was so ignorant about such things that they wouldn't have thought to contact social services or even bring an age-appropriate car seat along to transport her, allowing Fai an opening to talk the detective into letting the two temporary babysitters continue caring for the little one for the time being.

It was a stupid fantasy and highly improbable besides, and Kurogane sternly told himself that it was never going to play out that way. And yet he left the duffel bag of baby clothes in the car instead of making Fai carry it in for him, and didn't tell himself that it represented a hair-thin hope that the extra time needed to walk back to the car for it might afford an opportunity to convince the detective that they were acceptable substitutes for an official foster home.

He had no need for a baby in his life, not now, not even temporarily. But he left the bag in the car all the same.

Fai - after one last selfie with Papa Bear and Little Kitty - led the way into the lobby of the hospital and made a beeline for the reception desk, smile turned on all the way and voice packed full of sweetness. He only got partway through his explanatory introduction, however, before the matronly woman at the desk glanced beyond him to Kurogane and interrupted with an exclamation and hearty laugh.

"Oh, _you_ had the baby! Well if I'd known that I wouldn't have worried so much!"

"Morning," Kurogane greeted her, brief as usual but as polite in demeanor as he ever got. The long-time staff of the hospital had his respect for the good work they did, and had earned something of his friendship as well, for the care they'd shown his family over the years.

Fai was looking at him in some surprise, standing by the desk and looking a little lost, now that the task of charming the staff had been plucked out of his hands.

"I know some of the staff," Kurogane explained. He got a nod from Fai and another laugh from the receptionist.

"He's practically staff himself," she added in a conspiratorial manner, with a wink for the blond.

"That was a long time ago," Kurogane interrupted, when it seemed like she would go into detail, encouraged perhaps by the eager curiosity on Fai's face. "Anyway--"

"Honey, your volunteer badge is still in a box at NICU, so whenever you want, just say the word."

"Volunteer badge?" Fai asked quickly, before Kurogane could try to get the conversation on track again.

"He's a cuddler, hon," the receptionist said with a sage nod. Fai rounded on Kurogane with not a single shred of enlightenment in his expression. Instead his face was all alight with perplexed delight. Whatever the story was behind Kurogane being "a cuddler", Fai obviously wanted to hear it all.

Said cuddler, on the other hand, had zero desire to elaborate.

"I've got a baby here?" he said, voice sharp with exasperation and making the little bundle on his chest snuffle and squirm, "Where's the detective who wanted to see her?"

He got a lot of hand-flapping and a dramatic eye-roll so deep it required a whole head roll as well.

"Oh hon, that was a hell of a hot mess! After all that fuss, our little Jane Doe woke up and it turns out that that there _is_ her baby after all, and what's more she won't say peep about her injuries so there's nothing to investigate! Detective took off in a real huff. Seems like he was more interested in having a case to close than protecting and serving, if you ask _me_."

Though they still obviously needed to give their little charge up, it was a relief to know that there was a mother to give her back to instead of having to hand her off to an uncertain fate in foster care. In between muttered imprecations that the detective was "a slimy half-wilted weed" who "needs a good spanking, is what _I_ think", the receptionist gave them information about the appropriate room, which was in the intensive care wing.

Kurogane frowned at hearing where the young woman was located, and the receptionist elaborated without his needing to ask more. She was familiar with his tendency toward silence rather than chatter from years past, and knew him well enough besides to understand that any interest he did evidence in goings-on was more concern than curiosity. Most of the administrative staff at Mercy were on good and friendly terms with the medical staff, all sharing the same genuine concern for their patients that elevated customer service to customer care, as well as a natural love of good-natured gossip. As the most senior receptionist, the kindly woman had little to do with the patients but knew almost everything about them, and was therefore able to share some details with the visitors as she saw fit.

"The surgery went all right for the most part," she went on, lowering her voice a bit to speak to Kurogane after giving Fai an apologetic smile. The blond smiled back understandingly and politely stepped away, removing himself from the conversation.

"They've got to go back in," she explained, "stop some bleeding they didn't patch up right the first time, but they can't until the poor thing's kicked this nasty fever that's set in. Could be an infection, could be she's caught a virus. You go on now and at least let her see her baby though; it'll do her good."

Kurogane nodded and gave her a brief thanks, then headed away down the main hall with a quick jerk of his head to Fai to get him to fall in beside him. Wide blue eyes were turned on him expectantly, and he gave the hotelier a brief update.

Fai ruminated on the news silently and Kurogane led the way, occupying himself with what he'd heard from the receptionist and making sure they were going the right way. The scent of cleaning agents stung at his nose and the floor clung to his shoes in that particular way that over-polished linoleum had, reminding him of countless other times he'd walked these halls. The ceaseless background noise was hard to ignore as well; the meaningless hum of countless voices overlapping, the steady beep of monitors, papers shuffling and keyboards clacking and now and again, the staccato sound of footsteps hurrying along a hallway.

He tried to ignore it all, and ended up focused on it in a sort of grim determination not to let it affect him though it had his attention. He still walked steadily on and paid attention to where he was going, but when Fai finally spoke it jolted him as if he'd wandered.

"Maybe we'll get to keep our kitten a little longer after all?" Fai suggested with unapologetic hopefulness in his voice, giving a light caress to the infant, who was dozily draped against Kurogane's chest. The shopkeeper glanced down and snorted, but a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He was not at all put off by this single-minded focus on Fai's own wishes. The fact that the mother was in no condition - or situation - to be able to take back her child was simple fact, and from her still being referred to as "Jane Doe" it sounded as if there wasn't any family shown up to stake a superior claim to the child either.

He didn't see any callousness in Fai prioritizing the infant's welfare above the mother's health in his list of concerns. They'd both grown attached to the baby in the past few days and the mother wasn't even a face or name to them yet. Probably the only reason Kurogane hadn't hit upon this thought ( _hope_ ) himself was that he'd been preoccupied with his memories of this place.

"Maybe," he allowed, as they were buzzed into the intensive care wing. He stepped over to the nurse's station to inquire about room numbers, and as the person on duty began poring over the list of patients and their assigned beds, Kurogane turned briefly back to Fai, thinking to suggest, half jokingly and secretly serious, that the blond should try to sweet talk the mother into letting two complete strangers leave the hospital with her precious child while she completed her recovery.

Fai had for some reason gone serious and still and was looking behind them intently, forehead creased in a little frown. Kurogane turned to look as well, but all he could see were doors and windows and medical staff wandering ceaselessly through them like perpetually busy bees in their sterilized hive. There were very critically ill people visible through the glass, certainly, but no alarms were going off and the bustle was routine instead of emergent, and Kurogane could not fix on what had captured his companion's attention so completely.

" _Birdie!_ " Fai suddenly cried, and Kurogane stared in surprise as the blond darted across the hallway and burst into one of the rooms. The attendant at the nurse's station exclaimed after him, and Kurogane turned back to the desk.

"Uh..." he hedged, feeling as if he ought to apologize for the blond's behavior but not having a clue on how to even begin explaining the inexplicable tangle of oddness that was Fai.

"Well, it's that one," the nurse said in wry exasperation.

"What?" Kurogane asked blankly.

"Jane Doe. She's in that room your friend just barged into."


	16. Various revelations at Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the long wait between chapters. A lot's happened in the past few months, the biggest impact item being that I've been diagnosed with cancer and have had a fair amount of appointments and procedures to work into my already full schedule. Thankfully it's treatable, but the next chapter after this may take some time to write up as well, as I've got one or two more surgeries and radiation treatment coming up, and I don't know how much time and energy I'll have during the next few months. Thank you for your patience~
> 
> Speaking of medical treatment, I totally made things up left and right without doing any research whatsoever on how hospitals are run, so...yeah. Also, I did originally work Birdie's real name into this section but it got so long (10k+) that I chopped it into two parts and Birdie's real first name got cut into the next chapter. I feel bad so I'll just tell you now; it's Kotori. Anyone who thought it was Chii; good guess! Originally in fact, the baby's mother WAS dark!Chii (not in the story; deceased) and Chii was her auntie (now at Mercy Hospital) but the side story got so unnecessarily convoluted that I decided to simplify it a bit. Now Kotori is the baby's mother and I cut out about 10k words of unnecessary Fluorite Empire drama. XD I don't want too much angst in my fluffy baby fic, or to derail completely from the KuroFai romance.
> 
> ...man, this story is getting long. More and more I think I should go back and add descriptive chapter titles like "Kurogane takes a shower" and "Kurogane talks about his parents". Thank you all very, very much for your comments. It cheers me up a great deal to see new comments pop up, and to read how much you're enjoying reading about Kurogane and Fai's adventures~

Kurogane's first impulse was to follow Fai into the room with not much more ceremony than Fai himself had observed, but he stilled his steps after a glance through the narrow window that was set into the door. The young woman's face was turned away from the entrance and all he could really see of her was that she was slightly built and had a great deal of fair, wavy hair. Beyond that it was all the expected trappings of a hospital room. A clear tube snaked down from an IV bag and twined around one arm, and various wires dripped off of close-clustered machines to attach themselves to her hands or disappear under her hospital gown, making something ominous and unnerving out of the simple sight of a person lying in a bed.

Despite all these sights and the memories they were necessarily tied to, it was not the patient that had caught Kurogane's attention; it was Fai. His face was clearly visible as he bent over the bed and the man looked ready to weep. One of the girl's hands was taken up in his own, his movements halting and hesitant of the wires and tubes curling around the slender limb as he clasped it gently to his chest. His lips were moving but Kurogane couldn't hear what was being said, and from his vantage point, couldn't even tell if the patient was conscious much less responding.

Whoever "Birdie" was, she was no mere acquaintance. Kurogane stayed where he was, unwilling to break into the conversation, one-sided though it might be. After a few minutes he saw the girl shift, jaw moving slowly and once, fingers briefly tightening around Fai's. Fai spoke animatedly or nodded and smiled in response to every small movement, but the expressions were smiles in name only, all brittle and stretched thin enough to be able to read the worry behind them even at this distance. A quick glance around and he finally noticed Kurogane hovering in the hallway, and after a brief word to the young woman, Fai carefully disengaged his hands and then rushed to the door.

Instead of beckoning his companion into the room, Fai stepped out into the hallway and reached for the baby. He was all wide eyes and short breaths, and his entire being seemed so shaky that Kurogane kept his hands firmly 'round the infant's ribcage even after she was settled against the other man's shoulder.

"You got her?" Kurogane asked, clearly skeptical. Fai nodded quickly and took in a none-too-steady breath to explain.

"Yes, yes I'm fine. It's just. I'm a little in shock, is all," he said in a rush, voice high and thin. He attempted to get out another full sentence but never got past a few unenlightening pronouns and interjections, and after an impatient sigh finally blurted, "It's a long story. I'll tell you later, but right now I want to show her that her baby's okay, okay?"

It had to be okay, even if Kurogane wasn't entirely okay with it. The baby wasn't his, she _was_ apparently Birdie's, and the receptionist hadn't warned him that the mother was dying of plague or anything like that so he nodded and let her go. He pushed open the door since Fai had his hands full, and when the blond slipped into the room without nodding permission for him to follow or indeed even looking at him at all in passing, he stayed in the hallway. He kept the door braced open long enough to slide the baby bag off his shoulder and leave it just inside the room in case a diaper or bottle became necessary and then took up station again just outside, watching through the little window as soon as the door fell shut.

Instead of cradling the infant close and covering her with kisses and caresses, the mother seemed content to - or perhaps was too weak to do otherwise than - merely look at the child in Fai's arms. It reassured Kurogane somewhat that whatever she was sick with, she wasn't going to go out of her way to spread it to the baby. In point of fact it seemed more probable that she would infect Fai, who after speaking some more and growing visibly upset, got back out of his chair and bent to kiss her on the cheek.

Kurogane watched long enough to be sure that Fai wasn't going to drop the baby onto the bed as he leaned over, then turned away from the door. It wasn't anything so useless as jealousy but rather a sudden realization that he was spying on a private conversation. He wasn't given to wild romantic fantasies and didn't worry over the possibility that the girl was Fai's long-lost love or some other such thing. In point of fact he didn't bother worrying over it at all. Fai had said that he'd explain later, and so Kurogane pragmatically shelved the topic for said later.

Though he would have liked to have used this unexpected free time wisely Kurogane was mindful of the fact that he was standing in one of the hospital's no-cell-phone zones, and kept his phone in his pocket. Since he also couldn't just wander off and leave Fai to play a game of hide-and-seek with him once his visit was over, Kurogane settled himself against the wall with a short sigh of resignation. He passed the time by making mental to-do lists and trying not to hope that this Birdie was close enough to Fai that she'd ask him to continue babysitting. He only broke out of his internal busy-work once when a passing nurse recognized him and veered out of his path to chat the once-frequent visitor up.

The middle-aged man worked in the NICU and was therefore a familiar face to Kurogane, who had ended up volunteering at the hospital during the summer months when school was on break and his father not too distracted to mind the store. His mother's health having been what it'd been, Kurogane had been at the hospital often enough to get to know the staff and become known in turn, and one thing leading to another as it often did, he'd eventually been talked into becoming a cuddler. His high core temperature and low voice had proven to be ideal for comforting fretful infants and giving delicate preemies the physical contact they needed in order to improve their chances of thriving. The staff had declared that he had something beyond ideal physical stats as well, and commented often on his "magic touch" with their patients. He'd slowly paced off miles along one short stretch of temperature-controlled aisle with too few pounds of newborn cradled against his heart, and had spent countless hours parked in a rocking chair while nurses kept giving him fresh bottles and hungry babies whose mothers were unavailable or otherwise unable to feed them themselves.

When questioned about his decision to accept the volunteer position, Kurogane had always dismissively explained that he was just getting in some much-needed practice since a sibling was expected sooner or later. It was only the truth, but another truth he hadn't shared was that he'd needed something that he could _do_. It had never felt as if he could accomplish anything meaningful enough for his mother, even though there'd been plenty of tasks he could take care of and little gestures he could make. He'd helped out around the house, spent more time researching medicine than studying math, covered for his father in the shop, and insisted many a time that he would much rather sit on the couch and watch a sappy movie with his mother than go out with friends. But it had never felt like enough, because while his mother had smiled more, she'd never coughed less.

Giving those fragile little babies his warmth and presence had been something that returned measurable results often enough to satisfy him at least somewhat. He couldn't cure his mother's illness but it had seemed to him that he could impart some of his strength and vitality to the infants, and he'd needed that sense of accomplishment to help ward away the fear and frustration that piled up like snow, winter after winter.

That, like many other things, had ended a few years ago.

His volunteer badge had never been deactivated, it seemed, and the nurse brought it up just as the receptionist had. Kurogane put him off by saying that he was only visiting and the excuse was accepted easily enough, though he had to agree to stop by and "look over the new crop" before the man would leave him be. Under different circumstances he might have stubbornly held out against these attempts to lure him back into that section of the hospital, but promising to visit the infant ward seemed like a small price to pay for getting rid of the man before Fai could pop out of the room with one particular infant and raise a whole barrage of good-natured but persistent questions. He didn't want any repetitions of the outlandish fairytales told to his customers.

When the door beside him opened not long afterwards, the shopkeeper realized that he needn't have worried about Fai spreading some outrageous rumor among the hospital staff about how Kurogane had gotten married and had a baby since the last time he'd visited. He was still visibly upset and obviously in no mood for spinning romances and poking fun.

"You all right?" Kurogane asked, trying to watch both the blond's face and his hold on the baby at the same time.

Fai hummed a distracted affirmative, not looking up to meet Kurogane's gaze but instead scanning the corridor as if looking for something or someone. "I just...I need to talk to someone about paying her bill and...and keeping her..." Fai trailed off and then finally sighed and looked up to his companion with a thin smile that fell away almost as soon as it had been put up, as if he'd fallen back on an old habit of fishing for assistance with a bit of charm and then found that he simply didn't have the energy or focus to make the attempt.

"Sorry, I'm a little distracted," he began, but Kurogane waved it off. _No shit_ , he thought to himself, and nodded his head down a particular corridor.

"Administration's that way," he mentioned, seeing as Fai seemed lost in more ways than one. He got a grateful smile and a nod, and after reminding Fai that he'd left the baby bag inside the room, moved to take the baby back into his own arms. It sounded as if the hotelier would be busy with paperwork in a bit, and the man was definitely too shaken up over something or the other to make an ideal babysitter at the moment.

Besides which, they'd found the baby's mother. Kurogane probably wouldn't have much longer in which to hold the little mite.

After a little startle Fai easily let the infant go, snuck the shoulder bag back out of the girl's room and then fell into step next to Kurogane as the taller man led the way to the far side of the building. The hotelier remained silent the whole way, and whenever Kurogane glanced over, he found the man focused inward, brow wrinkled in thoughtful worry and eyes flicking back and forth as if reading over documents that only he could see. Kurogane shifted the infant slightly so that he could carry her mostly one-armed and sometimes put out a hand to steer the blond around a corner or nudge him before a set of steps. Oddly enough, at other times Fai would make a turn without any prompting, as if he knew already which way to go. Kurogane gave him a curious look but didn't bother asking.

When they got to the administrative offices Kurogane found himself excluded from the conversation once more, though it was just as likely to be Fai thoughtfully sparing him boredom than wishing to keep him ignorant of any details.

"I'm not sure how long this will take," Fai noted, unslinging the baby bag and offering it up to his escort. "If you want to go get a coffee in the cafeteria or something like that instead of waiting for me in the hallway, I could text you once I'm done and meet up with you."

Having no reason to force himself into Fai's business and certainly not the girl's, Kurogane nodded, and after confirming that Fai still had his number in his cell phone - he did, saved under an icon of a chubby bear head followed by some little pink hearts that Kurogane didn't protest beyond a look and a sigh, since the dork would just replace it later if forced to change it - they parted ways.

The shopkeeper walked back to the main hall and then hesitated at the intersection, not feeling any pull toward the cafeteria and its watery burnt coffee, the cramped little gift shop, the lobby or anywhere else one might reasonably go to kill time. He didn't want to just wander the halls either, exposing the little girl to every cougher and sneezer they might pass along the way. He looked down hallways for a few seconds more and then gave in to the inevitable.

"Want to go see some other drool nuggets?" he asked, turning his head to murmur the question right against the baby's temple. She wobbled her head up and smiled toothlessly at him.

" _Ahm!_ "

"All right," he replied, as if she'd articulated clearly a desire to go visit some of her agemates as a refreshing change from hanging out with two adults who spent most of their time bickering ( _or flirting, or both at the same time_ ).

The visit to the well-baby nursery in the maternity ward went much as could have been expected. He got a lot of curious looks from the newer staff and a warm welcome from the more tenured employees, and the baby was universally showered with adoration as soon as she lifted her head and burbled. Though none of the infants here were ill or particularly fragile there was of course no chance of a play date, but he got permission to take the little girl visiting around the metal and plastic bassinets once he'd vouched for her having not had a fever or shown any other symptoms of illness within the past forty-eight hours.

He had to admit to not knowing much of her history beyond the aforementioned time span, and that of course generated questions which would have normally led to a heavily-edited recap of his recent adventures. Something, however, kept him from revealing anything that would have only dead-ended in speculation about the Jane Doe ( _Birdie?_ ) in another wing of the hospital.

"Just watching her for a few days. Her mom's sick," he said dismissively. It was barely a quarter of a half-truth but at least it was still not an outright lie, and until he knew more of the story Kurogane thought it practical to keep things as simple as possible. The less gossip he started, the fewer explanations would be needed later on, and he'd have less fear of having unknowingly created complications as well. It wasn't much of an answer, but it was all he was willing to share just now, and Kurogane avoided further questions by turning away to begin the tour of newborns.

The little girl seemed enraptured by every one of her peers, whether they were squirming and fussing or sleeping quietly, and set up a non-stop stream of coos and awwrs as Kurogane walked her around to peep at all the bins. He naturally kept his eyes on the little girl, only cutting them away when he needed to do recon of where he was putting his feet next. He would never let himself live it down if he did something stupid and perfectly preventable like letting the baby slobber all over another person's precious progeny or turn his ankle on a wayward clipboard and stumble against a bassinet, jostling its occupant.

There were only a dozen or so infants currently in the nursery so the tour did not take long. Kurogane stood idly a moment in thought after he'd made his round but his options were the same as they had been when he'd last reviewed them in the hallway. With a philosophical sigh, he veered over to one of the rocking chairs situated nearby and settled himself in.

About half an hour later, he had an armful of contentedly dozing baby on his lap and an empty bottle dangling from the hand he had draped over one arm of the rocking chair. The staff were kept occupied with their work and he was left alone - and content to have it so - amidst the busyness. It was a quiet ward unless one of the patients themselves happened to be fussing but still thrumming with all the little noises of people being industrious. With the many workers milling about tending dedicatedly to the next generation, the metaphor of a busy beehive for a workplace seemed especially appropriate. Kurogane let his eyes wander around idly and was surprised to discover Fai watching him through the viewing window. Kurogane looked away from the little smile and wave to dig his phone out of his pocket with a frown, wondering how he'd missed the promised text notification. He had service but no new messages, and he frowned anew, put the phone away and began getting ready to make his exit.

His preparations inspired Fai to come meet him but having no children in the nursery and no staff badge either, the hotelier was politely kept out while Kurogane made quick farewells to those of the nurses who were currently unoccupied and whom he knew. He received a couple of requests to return again, and the still-slumbering infant in his arms was smothered in feather-light caresses and whispered injunctions to "come visit again, angel".

"How'd you know I was here?" Kurogane asked as soon as he stepped out into the hallway.

"I asked what a cuddler was and then followed a hunch over here," Fai replied. He smiled while he reached over and took the baby bag from the other man, but it was a small, faint thing that ghosted away while he adjusted the strap over his own shoulder. The somber mood was still upon him and he let the subject of Kurogane having been a part-time mother hen on a volunteer basis pass without any comment at all.

"So what now?" Kurogane prompted.

"Oh, um...I guess...I should call Yuui."

Kurogane had been thinking more along the lines of what to do with the infant he was holding, but he made no objection. A patient in the ICU wasn't exactly equipped to take care of a baby, even if they had the most right to. He suggested the cafeteria as a good place to relocate to as Fai would be able to use his cell phone there, not to mention there would likely be fewer sick people breathing near the infant, but the blond shook his head.

"Actually, could we go back to the car instead? I'd like to keep the call private and you'd probably be more comfortable too."

Kurogane shrugged acquiescence and began leading the way out, though he did quirk an eyebrow at the implication that he'd be allowed to be privy to the private call since they were going to be in the car together. The fact that they were walking out of the hospital with the baby still in their possession also gave him pause, and he had to firmly quash any unreasonable, un-looked for hopes that they would be keeping her a while yet. Probably Fai's second call would be to Birdie's husband or some other family to come and get the infant. Life was not so fairy-tale fanciful.

Life was, however, quite unbelievably full of complicated, convoluted coincidences.

When they got back into the car, shutting the doors hastily against the crisp air, Fai did not immediately dial up his brother. Instead he tapped briefly at his phone and then waited with it in his lap. Kurogane looked at the blond curiously from the back seat, where he was carefully getting the infant strapped back into the carseat and trying not to wake her up completely.

"Thought you were going to call your brother."

"I'm not supposed to call him during these little vacations," Fai replied, with a sheepish smile. The air quotes around the word 'vacation' were clearly audible. "He won't pick up if I just call out of the blue, so I texted him instead to let him know it's important. He'll call me as soon as--"

The phone rang and Fai immediately picked up, not bothering to finish his sentence. Kurogane eyed him while absently patting the baby's stomach to keep her soothed, on the watch for some signal that he should step outside and give the man some privacy, but Fai seemed to be unconcerned that he had an audience. After a fruitless few moments, Kurogane gave up on attempting to focus on something else so that he didn't eavesdrop and blatantly listened in to the audible half of the conversation instead.

"No, I'm fine, I'm safe. Yuui...oh Yuui I found Birdie!

Yes. No. No. I'm at Mercy. No, I haven't been here the whole time; I dropped off the check three days ago and oh Yuui, oh my God, she must have gotten there just as I was walking out or else her baby wouldn't have still been in--

Her baby. Her _baby_. Yes, baby as in 'waah'. We're uncles. Or cousins once removed or whatever it is. Anyway--"

Kurogane missed the next little bit as he snapped his head back to stare at the infant, a little wide-eyed at this new development. That the infant belonged to this Birdie person he already understood. But apparently Birdie herself belonged to - or at least was tied to - the Fluorite family, and was cousin to the person sitting in the front passenger seat of Kurogane's Audi. And not only that, but somehow the infant she'd left in the back of a taxi had ended up in her cousin's custody instead of a complete stranger's arms or worse.

It was wild enough of a plot twist to belong in a movie in Kurogane's mind, or at the very least a respectably sized novel. _You are lucky, Princess_, he thought at the tiny sleeping beauty, and then despite himself, self-interest shoved aside surprise as he twigged to the fact that this newly discovered family tie greatly improved his chances of being able to keep in touch with this dimpled morsel of humanity that he'd gotten not a little bit attached to, since he was dating her uncle-cousin-whatever.

"You _know_ who the father is," Fai hissed viciously, pulling Kurogane's attention back to the front with a start. The conversation had taken a rather sharp downward turn while his focus had drifted, and the sense that he ought not to be listening in returned full force. After confirming that the infant was still sleeping soundly, the shopkeeper slid away across the seats, opened the door and stepped out, focusing on the small noises he was making to avoid overhearing any more.

Kurogane shut the door as quietly as he could behind him and didn't bother checking to see if his exit had drawn any notice, instead circling around the back of the car and hovering near the rear passenger side door so that he could still watch the baby. She snoozed on, blissfully unaware of how unpredictable and unbelievable life could be. She looked like she belonged in an overpriced stroller pushed by a slightly harried but still blissfully happy stay-at-home parent down some peaceful suburban street full of cookie-cutter homes, instead of taking a nap in a borrowed carseat that was strapped into an increasingly perplexed stranger's car.

There was plenty to be curious and even concerned about but pondering over the scraps he'd overheard could avail him little, so Kurogane hunched his shoulders against the cold and simply stood watch until Fai's call ended. He didn't bother checking his watch since marking the time wouldn't make the call go any faster, but by the time Fai popped out to call him back inside, enough cold had wormed its way down his collar and seeped in through his sleeves to settle in his muscles and make him have to consciously relax once he'd gotten back in the car.

He sat in the driver's seat this time, and after turning on the engine and heater, quirked an eyebrow at his companion. Fai had run out of gratitude for Kurogane's thoughtfulness and apologies for inconveniencing him by then and sat silently staring at him, worrying at his lower lip and rubbing circles into his phone with one thumb as if a genie might be persuaded to come out of it and help them get some normalcy back into their day.

"So what now?" Kurogane asked, repeating his question of earlier since his first inquiry hadn't yielded much in the way of enlightenment. Fai opened his mouth, closed it, and then mmm'd in a tense, searching-for-words sort of way. His usual glibness of tongue was not the only thing missing from Kurogane's base set of impressions of the man either. The shopkeeper had memories of him moving with a cat-like loose-limbed grace or dancing around like he'd eaten a pound of sugar. Now, Fai was all tense lines and shallow breaths, restless hands and a tiny little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Kurogane gave him a little verbal pat. Or jab, perhaps.

"Look, you don't need to tell me anything that's not my business; I just want to know what the rest of my day's going to look like."

That seemed to help. Fai laughed in a barely audible, not really humorous manner, then took a deep breath and finally spoke. As he scratched together sentences, he grew steadier in manner and voice as if talking through little details helped to bring him down from panicky worries into reality that could be grasped and wrestled with.

"Birdie is my cousin," Fai said, keeping his sentences simple as if he couldn't spare any effort into being clever or cute. "She ran away from home a while ago. Yuui and I looked for her but..." He trailed off, face twisting unhappily, and then picked up a completely different sentence.

"She's got to stay in the hospital for a little while longer. One more surgery as soon as her fever subsides - something about tying up a bleeder? - and then she'll be able to leave. Oh, and the baby _is_ hers, like they thought, so _she's_ my cousin too," he said, and squirmed around in his seat to gaze wonderingly at his young relative. The car seat faced the rear of the car and hid most of her from view, but Fai reached back and gently caressed her head.

"You were right about her being about two months old. Birdie couldn't remember exactly when she was born, though."

Kurogane must have made a noise at this point, probably just some hum of surprise, but Fai turned back to him abruptly, expression sharpening into something harder, defensive and almost angry. Hurt, perhaps, because Birdie was dear to him, and upset because he was sensible enough to see that there was no way around the fact that the baby hadn't exactly been receiving A+ care.

"She had no one, nothing," Fai said, voice shaking ever so slightly but vibrant now instead of lost. "She did the best she could. A towel in a duffel bag was better than nothing, and the only reason she left her in the taxi was because she'd passed out, not because--"

"Hey, look," Kurogane cut in, raising a hand and thinking to reassure Fai that he wasn't looking for rocks to throw. Fai cut his eyes away and shook his head, forestalling him, and then sighed before switching tone and direction again.

"I know, it's just...if only I'd walked out a few minutes earlier. I got in the cab that dropped her off, for God's sake. I probably would have seen them bringing her in," he murmured, gaze fixing on the infant again but then slipping away after only a second or two. "If only I'd gotten there sooner or spent a little less time chatting. I should have asked the driver what he was doing out of his cab in the first place. If only we'd looked harder!"

Kurogane blinked at this last bit, not quite understanding at first because he was only thinking of Fai and the taxi and Mercy Hospital. Trying to follow the twists and turns Fai's mind was taking was like driving from Elk Ridge to town at fifty miles per hour. At night. During deer season. It took him a moment to realize that Fai was talking about his and his brother's obviously unsuccessful attempt to look for their cousin when she'd first run away from home, and in that time Fai fell even deeper into self-recrimination. Kurogane frowned at the way the blond practically took on the blame for all that his cousin - _cousins_ \- had suffered, as if he were guilty of driving her away and keeping her in whatever terrible circumstances had landed her in the hospital, rather than simply having lessened his efforts to find her.

It was natural that the brothers should try to find their runaway relative, and also only natural that after months of fruitless searching they should gradually run out of leads to chase and the heart to go on looking. (A little bit unnatural that there wasn't any mention of anyone else out looking for her, but Kurogane didn't concern himself overlong with the the life choices of anyone in the Fluorite family other than the one he was currently dating.) Only natural that their business demand their attention, only natural that they should protect the happiness that they'd worked hard to build up, only natural that they should move on with their own lives.

And it seemed that it was only natural for Fai to be unable to easily forgive himself for that.

"So what can you do for her now?" Kurogane broke in to Fai's rambling without any finesse when it seemed as if it would go on for some time without leading anywhere healthy or helpful. He cut through the middle of a sentence and Fai faltered through a few more words before staring at him blankly.

"What?" the blond asked, and Kurogane repeated himself.

"Should've, could've; doesn't change anything," he said bluntly. "What can you do to help your cousin _right now_?" Fai stared at him long enough that Kurogane began to wonder if he'd gone too far, been too brusque and caused offense, or stepped a little too close and accidentally hurt him. Eventually Fai blinked and then glanced away again, gathering his thoughts.

"Well...we've kept her baby safe, I already paid for her stay and also arranged for her to remain registered as Jane Doe," Fai began, but then stopped and looked warily up at Kurogane as if he'd let slip more than he wished. "There are...people I want to keep Birdie away from."

"And Princess here?" Kurogane asked, nodding his head toward the back seat.

"She's staying with me," Fai said, speaking firmly as if to solidify a newly made decision.

"What about the baby's father?" Kurogane asked automatically, thinking along the lines of biology and blood rights, and then had to hold himself back from flinching away as blue eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously.

"He's one of the people I'm keeping away from Birdie," Fai snapped, and on this point he was all fangs and claws and cold silence. There was no trace of his usual wheedling and coaxing, no apologies and explanations bleeding out from an eagerness to please and be found pleasing. There were still definite lines Kurogane could not cross, though Fai's personal boundaries were drawn much closer than the shopkeeper's. Kurogane backed straight up from that topic and circled back around to things they could actually do something about.

"So what, you're going to stay in a hotel near here with the baby until your cousin's discharged and can take care of her herself?" Personally, he didn't think all that much of this idea, what with hotels being cramped and covered in other people's germs, but there wasn't much practicality in Fai and the baby making the long drive from the cabin to Mercy every single day. It didn't occur to him that Fai's cousin wouldn't want to see her child as much as possible, and so Fai's counter-proposal came as a complete surprise.

"Actually," Fai said with a thoughtful pause that led to the defrosting of his expression into a funny little crinkle of playfully exaggerated discomfort, "is there any chance I can lure you back to my cabin?"

Kurogane eyed the other man uncertainly, not absolutely certain that this was about childcare. One never knew with Fai.

"I want to visit Birdie as much as possible, and I was hoping you'd be willing to babysit," Fai explained. "Birdie needs to focus on getting better, and besides she knows her baby's in good hands and probably won't want her making this long drive twice a day--"

"Or being exposed to germs at the hospital," Kurogane agreed.

"Right, and Birdie's more concerned with keeping her safe anyway, not keeping her with her all the time," Fai went on, clearly relieved that he was getting no arguments, suspicious questions, or anything of the sort. "I'll pay you for your time and buy whatever other supplies we might need from your shop, of course, so...will you?"

"No, but I'll watch her for you at my shop when you need me to. No charge."

Fai considered this for a moment and Kurogane watched him nibble his lip and listened to the gears turning inside that fair head.

"Can she and I just stay with you at your place until Birdie's better, then?"

"I'll watch her for you at my shop _when you're not at your cabin to watch her yourself_ ," Kurogane clarified. "I need to date you for longer than one day before deciding we should move in together." Some slightly detached part of him noted in amusement that he wasn't even surprised at this request to co-habit, even if it was only temporarily.

"But I don't have a crib and you do," Fai pointed out, attacking with logic since Kurogane was proving immune to fantastically romantic notions.

"I'll lend it to you."

"What if something happens at night?"

"911 for emergencies, and you've got my number for non-emergencies."

"I'll be too groggy to drive safely down the mountain if I have to care for her all by myself all night."

"Drop her off to me in the morning, take a nap on my couch, and buy a coffee on your way through Elk Ridge."

At this, Fai ran out of sensible protests and fell back on pouting, and after a moment of listening to ridiculous whining and watching a real unease and unhappiness dim blue eyes, Kurogane made a small concession.

"You can help me out at the shop when you're not down here visiting, and stay for dinner too, if you're that terrified of being alone with her." Surprisingly, Fai only brightened up a bit and smiled and nodded instead of breaking into cheers or slyly suggesting that Kurogane might be persuaded to let him stay for dessert and breakfast as well. It only bolstered the feeling that he'd been right to extend the admittedly grudging-sounding offer of companionship and comforting presence, and after another pause, Kurogane asked,

"You all right?"

Fai blinked at him, surprised at this simple question.

"Yes, of course," he said, not entirely convincingly. Kurogane eyed him skeptically but nodded and then sighed, realizing suddenly that they had a lot to do now that they weren't just handing the baby off to Social Services.

"Buckle up," he said absently, while turning in his seat to make one last check on the still-slumbering infant.

"What? Oh, sure. Did you want to get lunch somewhere?"

"We can do that too, but mainly we need to go spend a ton of your money," Kurogane answered, grinning despite his head still being in a bit of a whirl while trying to process the day's events. "Your little cousin back there needs a car seat."


	17. Ever-changing plans for the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! I wanted to get this chapter posted today so I rushed to get it finished and didn't have time for any in-depth editing. I hope this update is a treat, not a trick! XD

Though only the co-owner of a single bed and breakfast on the coast rather than a scion of a vast hotel empire as Kurogane had understandably but erroneously assumed, Fai still had ridiculous amounts of money so far as the shopkeeper was concerned. This, combined with a generous if somewhat impulsive nature and a great deal of lingering guilt for not having been able to shield and save his cousin from her current situation, led to the fulfillment of Kurogane's prediction; they spent a ton of Fai's money.

Fai beat him to the lunch bill but Kurogane growled him back into the car when the blond attempted to pay for gasoline too, and then they hit a large link in a chain of baby supply stores. Besides a goodly supply of basics such as bottles and diapers, they also bought a car seat, stroller, changing pad, and a baby bathtub that came with a rubber duck that would turn red if the water was too hot. Kurogane didn't know how long Birdie would be in the hospital, but even if they were only going to be watching her baby for another day or two, things still needed to be purchased. As Fai had said, Birdie had no one and nothing. ( _But she had her child, and her child had a sort-of uncle, and that sort-of uncle had a boyfriend._ ) He added enough sheets, blankets and washcloths to get Fai's cousin through at least a week without needing to do laundry. Fai eyed the shopping cart and promptly doubled the amount of all the linens, not because he doubted Kurogane's calculations, but because there weren't enough adorable animal patterns to satisfy him.

The need to make sure the infant had one of everything cute gripped Fai in the clothing section as well, but Kurogane stepped squarely between him and the racks of ribbons and frills.

"I've got enough clothes for her for at least the next year," he said, and attempted to nudge the blond over to the aisle where baby monitors were to be found. The contact was light since Fai was holding the little girl, so it took hardly any effort for him to keep his feet planted while he frowned up at Kurogane.

"Are you sure? I don't mind buying clothes for her, and...well, won't you regret giving all her things away?" Fai flung his pronouns around a little sloppily but Kurogane understood the switch from one infant to the other and the hesitation the other man had in casually tossing out Tomoyo's name. It was an intimacy he hadn't earned yet in Kurogane's mind, though he didn't qualify it in such concrete terms. It was more a general feeling and one apparently shared between them, which he appreciated.

"I've held on to them long enough," he replied, vague and casual and on the surface only inferring that he wouldn't mind clearing out a few boxes from his attic. Beneath the controlled carelessness and averted gaze, it was acknowledgment that he was moving on, letting go. A not-insignificant step forward that he had to consciously decide, almost force himself to take, but took willingly in the end.

In his peripheral vision Fai was watching him steadily, and then Kurogane glanced over as he found himself the recipient of an odd little head-butt of sorts. Fai bumped his forehead briefly up against Kurogane's shoulder, for all the world like a cat asking for a caress, then pulled back. Kurogane quirked an eyebrow at this strange gesture but the other man merely smiled and spoke a word of gratitude. Kurogane pondered this over and decided the head-butt had been a public-place-safe version of a thank-you kiss, and just nodded in response before steering the shopping cart away from the clothing racks and toward the baby monitor aisle.

After about ten minutes of debate, they decided upon something in between Kurogane's choice of a base-model one-way monitor and Fai's choice of a two-way wireless video system complete with a sensor pad to lay under the bedsheets to keep track of the baby's movements. Paranoia seemed to sink claws into Fai once they got to the toiletries section and Kurogane spent half their time there putting items back on the shelf. A little snot-bulb went into the cart, as did a pair of nail scissors, some baby powder and two bottles of baby shampoo, but he prevented Fai from purchasing every single variation on an infant first aid kit the store had to offer, and also only allowed one brand of diaper rash ointment.

The furniture section was bypassed without comment since Birdie and the baby's eventual address seemed to still be up in the air, and besides which Kurogane planned to offer Tomoyo's crib and playpen up when the time seemed right. One question still remained that he actually wanted answered, however, and he brought it up after cramming all of their purchases into the car and switching out the borrowed baby seat for their newly purchased one. He slammed the rear door of the Audi shut and then watched as Fai carefully extracted the baby from the stroller that they'd assembled right there in the store and test driven through the parking lot. While hunkered down to collapse the stroller, Kurogane asked,

"So does Princess have an actual name or what?"

"What? Oh! I'm sorry; I thought I already mentioned it," Fai laughed, and then looked fondly at his tiny cousin. "Your name is Sakura, Little Kitty."

"What." Kurogane stared blankly at the hotelier and then at the peachy-pink strawberry blond infant. Genetics could play interesting tricks, especially once bloodlines were diluted down to halves and quarters, but still the decidedly Japanese choice of name for the baby took him by surprise.

"Sa-ku-ra? I'm sorry, I'm probably butchering the pronunciation. We could never get the 'r' right in Birdie's real name either."

"Birdie's not her real name?" He was actually somewhat relieved that the baby word for "bird" wasn't rising in popularity as a given name.

"Oh, no, it's Kotori," Fai answered, stumbling a bit as he valiantly - and vainly - attempted to pronounce the r-and-l hybrid sound properly.

"Little bird," Kurogane surmised aloud, though it was impossible to know for certain without seeing how the name was written. It made sense though, and Fai was nodding.

"Exactly. When Yuui and I were upset that we couldn't say her name correctly, she told us that we could just call her Little Bird instead, and eventually that turned into Birdie." Fai's expression turned fond and reminiscing, and he dropped an impulsive kiss to the baby's forehead.

"Little Birdie and her cherry blossom. We should have brought her with us when we broke away," Fai murmured, speaking so low that Kurogane wasn't sure the words had been meant for him to hear. He thought them over and tied them back to something Fai had mentioned the other night, about he and his brother having left the Fluorite family when they'd been old enough to claim independence.

"What about now?" Kurogane asked, steering the conversation toward immediate practicality once more. As a general rule he supposed he was action-oriented, but he wasn't always so much more focused on what possibilities loomed ahead than what choices lay behind. God only knew how much time he'd spent wrapped up in his past, after all. Fai's tendency toward guilt-tripping down memory lane seemed to bring out his more forward-facing self, however, as if he were trying to keep the two of them in balance. When he saw Fai moping, he automatically seemed to want to nudge the man forward instead, and when he noticed it Kurogane had to pause and wonder at this rather meddlesome behavior in himself.

"You going to take them with you when you go home?" he half-asked, half-suggested, not second-guessing his instincts so far as to actually stop meddling.

The girl had run away from home, spent a few days in the hospital as Jane Doe without anyone inquiring after a missing person of her description, and carried her child about in a duffel bag because it was the best she'd been able to do. Add to this the fact that Fai had been concerned about keeping her anonymous and hidden away, not to mention feeling guilty about not being able to discover and assist her sooner, and Kurogane's guess was that Fai would want to actively keep her safe and tucked away somewhere.

Fai nodded, but it was more in thoughtful pondering than agreement.

"Probably, yes," he said slowly, as if testing the idea out as he spoke it. "I don't see what else we can do. I'll call Yuui again later so we can sort out more details."

Fai drifted off then and stayed quiet as Kurogane took them back up the mountain. The shopkeeper drove up his own driveway instead of continuing on to the cabin, and at Fai's surprised query, explained that they might as well stop and dismantle the crib to take along with them too. It would take time, but it was better than making the baby spend the night in the doggy bed or having Fai anxiously stay up all night staring at her as she snoozed on one of the beds in the cabin. It was quite late in the afternoon already and edging on to twilight what with all the hours they'd spent shopping and driving around, but he thought they had time enough. Like many things in the past few days, however, things didn't go quite - or at all - as planned.

A customer stopped by just as they were closing the garage door. This was only a half hour's delay in their informal schedule; nothing significant, but long enough for the infant to wake up completely cranky after the long drive home. She raised her voice in thin, piteous cries and would not be silenced until she'd been changed out of her wet diaper and given a warm bottle to latch on to. All this took time, and whether it was the strain of the day rendering Fai especially vulnerable or what it was, her wails seemed almost to reduce him to tears too as the minutes went by. By the time she finally stopped crying, all the pleasant distraction of their shopping trip was wiped away and the blond seemed a wreck.

Kurogane tried to send him off to settle himself with a hot shower or half hour of mindless television but Fai clung to his tiny cousin and insisted on tending to her himself, even though her tears weren't exactly helping his mood. It was a good opportunity for Kurogane to head upstairs and dismantle the crib like he'd planned, but some unease kept him close to the others. It wasn't anything so ridiculously dramatic as a fear that Fai would do any harm to himself or the child; just a faint worry that made him want to be present for them, like a mute promise of support and assistance should it become necessary, or even just wished for.

The bottle of formula only bought them a brief respite and then the baby began fussing again, though not at the same volume or intensity as before. Fai did laps around the small kitchen table with her in his arms instead of roaming the shopfront, as if needing the comfort of a home setting more than he wished for space in which to stretch his legs. The little girl quieted after a bit but a little frown continued marring Fai's brow. Kurogane knew that a change of clothes and a stomachful of warm milk wouldn't soothe the man as it had the infant, but he didn't know what _was_ needed, exactly. Eventually he settled for giving Fai a clasp on the shoulder - too quick to be a caress, too lingering to only be a pat - and muttering something about getting dinner ready.

The hours crept by, decisions on what to do next spaced out with more pauses ripe with an unspoken reluctance to break apart. Dinner, dishes, another diaper change, a bath that the baby didn't exactly need but felt like a good idea to the adults, then coffee. By the time Kurogane got around to detaching himself from the others and heading to the nursery to begin dismantling the crib, it was so late that he just stared at it from the doorway for three seconds before shaking his head and returning to his bedroom. Fai was curled up on the small couch with the baby in his lap, feeding her what they were hoping would be her last bottle for the night.

"You staying?" he asked without preamble. Fai glanced up and smiled, looking tired but steadier on his metaphorical feet than a couple of hours earlier.

"I think that depends on you," Fai pointed out. "This is your house, and you're also my ride."

"I'll drive you to your cabin if you want, but it's late and I don't feel like breaking down that crib," Kurogane admitted. "Your bag's still here so you might as well stay another night."

"Lazy bear," Fai quipped, but it was all affection topped off with a soft sigh of satisfaction or relief, with hardly any real teasing to water it down.

"We can drive up to the cabin in the morning, unload all our purchases and the crib," Fai then mused, testing out ideas and slowly laying them out for inspection. "After that's done I guess you can bring Little Kitty back here while I take my own car down to see Birdie." It was said as a statement but a little lilt at the end made it a question, so Kurogane nodded to show his acquiescence.

"That works. I'll keep the playpen here. If we leave at five that should get me back in time to open up shop like usual." This elicited a pained whine from Fai.

" _Five?_ Like...five _a.m._?"

"Setting the crib back up at your place is going to take time. It's not _that_ early."

"Uuugh you're a morning person, aren't you," the blond said accusingly, cradling the infant close as if to shield her from Kurogane's disgusting habit of rising before the sun was well up.

"No, I just have common sense," Kurogane retorted. "Lot of work to be done and I don't want to leave it for after dinner. You run a business; don't tell me you sleep in every day and make your brother do all the morning work."

"Sort of?" Fai admitted, with a slightly shame-faced grin. "But I do all the night work so it balances out."

"Yeah well it's just me here."

"Well," Fai said briskly, "when we're married--"

"Wha-- _If. If_ we ever get married."

"--I'm going to at least teach you to appreciate the glories of a lazy Sunday morning."

"And while we're just dating, and you're in my house, you're getting up early."

" _Mean_."

Kurogane snorted and then, seeing that the baby was done with her meal, reached over to take the bottle. Now that it was determined that the guests would be sleeping over again, they accordingly began getting ready to settle in for the night. Fai began roaming the second story while attempting to coax air bubbles out of his newly revealed cousin once removed, and Kurogane trod downstairs with the empty baby bottle to begin buttoning up the shop and cleaning up whatever messes remained in the kitchen. By the time he made it back upstairs, he found the baby already so deeply asleep that she didn't stir when he laid a careful hand over her head to make sure she felt warm enough.

He looked into his own room to find Fai curled up on the couch and deep in conversation on his cell phone, presumably with his brother. They made eye contact and Fai began to scramble up, but Kurogane waved him back down and left to give the man some privacy. Hunting up the baby monitors purchased that day and then re-packing everything else took some time, since the monitors - of course - ended up being in the very last bag the shopkeeper took from the back of the car.

He unwrapped the monitor set, tested them in the kitchen and then spent a couple of minutes worming around on the floor of the nursery. Hindsight was a right pain in the ass sometimes, and he realized that he'd placed the crib squarely in front of the sole electrical outlet. He didn't want to risk waking the infant by dragging her bed about, of course, so down he went. After that was done he stood a moment in the hallway with the other monitor in his hand, and when he heard no voices coming from his room, looked in.

"Oh, good here he is," Fai said into his phone, halfway off of the couch already and then settling back down as Kurogane stepped inside.

The shopkeeper stood expectantly by the couch, hands on hips.

"Yuui's going to start clearing out the honeymoon suite for Birdie and Little Kitty," the blond said, wiggling his phone briefly in the air as he dragged Kurogane into the tail end of the ongoing conversation. "He doesn't know any more about babies than I do though, so can I give you my phone, and you can text him a shopping list of what we still need for the room?"

"Sure," Kurogane replied almost immediately, but he furrowed his brow thoughtfully while Fai spoke briefly again and then brought up his text messaging app. Two brothers who knew jack squat about babies and one young and woefully unprepared and unequipped little mother to take care of one child. The ratio of adults to infant was excellent, but the combined (in)experience between the three of them was quite the opposite. Some new thought began to rally itself on the tip of his tongue, but being handed Fai's phone distracted him away and he was soon focused on tapping out a quick list of essentials.

The title of a popular book for new parents that covered a baby's first year was typed in first. He gave a brief tally of the supplies they'd purchased that day, and then tried to think of what was still necessary for a permanent nursery. After listing off outlet covers, cabinet locks, night lights and other baby-proofing supplies, he suggested some semi-luxury items such as a wipe-warmer and diaper disposal bin. Finally Kurogane mentioned that he had clothes, a playpen and a crib if they wanted to go to the bother of getting them to California some way or another.

Three little dots appeared and a message popped up after a bit.

_Thank you so much. I'll go shopping tomorrow and see if I can't connect with a childcare provider in the area too. I don't want to bother you every time we have a question._

The brother seemed more level-headed than Fai, and Kurogane felt a funny bit of relief. Fai was probably the younger one, and this Yuui the one who kept him in line when they were together. He typed back,

 _Pediatrician too._ He handed the phone back to Fai without waiting for a reply, and pondered a bit as the blond began nosing through the texts he'd missed.

"So they're gonna live with you?"

"Hm?" Fai looked up from the phone and then smiled and patted the bit of couch next to him. "Oh, yes. As soon as Birdie's well enough to travel, I'll take her and Little Kitty home."

Kurogane snorted and thumped down gracelessly.

"You gotta stop calling her that. You can't buy plane tickets for a cat."

That brought Fai up short, and then Kurogane found that Fai's desire to keep his cousin safe extended to continuing to keep her secret, and that meant he couldn't buy a plane ticket for her. They debated the future a bit ( _"This isn't a crappy action movie; you can't just duck down some dark alley and buy her a new identity!" "She won't need one! No one in Seal Cove cares about ID unless you're buying liquor!"_ ) and in fact ended up getting so far off track that by the time Kurogane tried to bring the conversation back around, they were debating about how much land, livestock and manpower it would take to make a farm capable of sustaining a single family.

"How the hell did we even get on this topic?" he demanded, then shook his head, forestalling a response with one hand. "Never mind. Just..."

He trailed off, having no clear idea of what he wanted to say or do next but feeling like he needed to re-set his brain. There was a decision he'd been trying to make or a point he'd wanted to clarify or something like that but it was lost now under a jumble of conversational threads. Fai watched him expectantly for a bit, waiting for the "what" after the "just". When Kurogane sank back into the couch cushions with a huff, he laughed and settled back as well.

"Need a break?" Fai asked with a small, sympathetic smile. "It's been quite a day."

"For you more than me," Kurogane pointed out, and even as he said it, he realized the truth of his statement and admired how collected the other man seemed after the day's events. Fai wasn't perfectly calm, of course. He was smiling but subdued, and tension was apparent in the set of his shoulders and ceaselessly restless fingers.

"Well, yeah," Fai admitted with a faint laugh. "But well, it's mostly good news. We found Birdie, we get to basically keep our kitten here, and she's providing me with a fairly iron-clad excuse to spend more time with you."

Kurogane nodded vaguely, frowning again as he suddenly got back on the trail he'd lost.

"Actually yeah," he agreed. "Maybe you should move in after all."

Fai blinked at him a bit.

"What? I mean yes, first of all, before you reconsider, but what brought this on?"

"Babysitting boot camp. Everything you know about babies you learned in the last few days, and you said your brother is just as clueless. No offense but I'm not going to sleep very well if Princess in there goes to live in California with you two taking care of her while her mom recovers."

"You said you trusted me with her," Fai protested, smacking the other man lightly on the arm. And he _had_ said that, or at least something very close to it but...

"Big difference between trusting you to watch her for a few hours and thinking you're up to being her full time guardian."

"Birdie will--"

"She carried her around in a duffel bag," Kurogane said pointedly, though not without some faint wariness at the back of his mind, recalling as he did how quick Fai had been to snap to his cousin's defense on this subject. The blue eyes fixed on him did narrow slightly at this, but it wasn't exactly a point Fai could contest.

"I'm not saying she's a bad mom," Kurogane amended. "She did her best, but it's basically luck that Princess is healthy and low-maintenance as far as babies go."

"All right, yes, you have a point," Fai conceded after a moment's struggle. He then gave a confused little shrug. "So, I'm sorry but what's your proposal? I'm moving in with you?" For all his insistence that they were meant to be together, this was clearly not a workable option in Fai's mind, based on his facial expression.

"No, you and the baby are staying with me until you go back to California, and so far as she's concerned, I'm not here. You'll be Princess's new caretaker around the clock, I'll shadow you and give you tips, and then hopefully by the time you go home, you'll be ready to give your brother and cousin a crash course in baby care."

Fai turned this notion over in his head a while, an increasingly concerned frown marring his brow.

"Is it really that...I mean, how much do I not know yet? What might happen? How long is long enough to teach me what I need to know?"

The blond sounded like he was ramping up into panic, probably fueled by a too-healthy imagination and his ridiculously large collection of movies. Kurogane shook his head and tried to backpedal a bit into reassurance.

"You've got the basics down already; I just want to make sure you're comfortable handling her on your own, since I'm not going back with you. You'll be fine." And then, suddenly lighting on a new thought, he added, "After you're done visiting with your cousin tomorrow, stop by a bookstore and buy that book I texted your brother about. You can read it and ask me questions." He figured that the more prepared Fai felt, the more confident he would be when the time came to part from Kurogane.

It was a logical, sensible, very practical suggestion that Kurogane would come to deeply regret.


	18. Boot Camp and Birdie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After taking seventeen chapters to get Kurogane through four days' worth of time, I cover nearly a full week in just one chapter. My apologies if anyone develops whiplash. (Actually I would super super super love feedback in terms of 1. was the speed increase okay or eyw, and 2. what does the last line make you think?)
> 
> Happy holidays everyone~ Ooh maybe if the muse is kind I'll be able to post the next bit on Christmas! *bribes her with treats*

Kurogane tumbled into bed that evening with an appreciative groan and Fai immediately wormed into his personal space, claiming his arm as a headrest despite there being a perfectly serviceable pillow nearby. A long, soft sigh breathed against his collarbone accompanied the feeling of that slender form relaxing against his side, as if there had been too many sharp stabs and shocks during the day and the blond was now leaking air. Though Fai had continued to pass himself off as doing quite well, he'd been pensive and pale enough that a protective feeling lingered. Under its influence, Kurogane turned his head as far as he could to drop a goodnight kiss out of the corner of his mouth to the top of Fai's head, and after a faint chuckle Fai lifted his face and returned the affectionate gesture against Kurogane's jaw.

They settled themselves for sleep immediately after this brief exchange and the shopkeeper began running over the day's events with a rueful prediction that his tangled thoughts would keep him awake for a while, but lost consciousness before he could do much more than begin replaying their trip to the hospital.

With the exception of one infant-based interruption around two-thirty in the morning, they slept soundly until Kurogane's alarm went off and woke up feeling fairly refreshed. As if life had decided to be merciful after the bewildering day prior, the morning proceeded according to plan. After breakfast, Kurogane dropped the blond off at his cabin and then drove back with the baby to open up shop while Fai exchanged his overnight bag for an extended-sleepover suitcase, then made preparations to visit his cousin at Mercy and make a quick stop at a bookstore. In the meantime, Kurogane tended to his shop and his chubby little charge and got a ridiculous number of texts, none of which he replied to except when Fai wanted to know how the infant was doing.

Everything went quite smoothly until Fai returned.

" _Have you read this?!_ "

Kurogane closed his eyes and focused on breathing slowly and deeply while counting to three. He didn't have enough patience left to make it all the way to ten.

"Told you," he said with controlled evenness, "Yes."

"A colicky baby can cry for _three hours at a time, three times a week, **for three months!**_ "

"Did you read the bit about it starting before they're a month old?" Kurogane asked dryly, still hunched over the day's receipts. The definitely-older-than-four-weeks infant warbled happily in the playpen next to his knee while he did paperwork in his small - and now very much crowded - office. Fai was on the squat, severely utilitarian sofa opposite him, flipping through the book Kurogane had recommended and doing a very thorough job of freaking out.

"She might be a late bloomer," Fai persisted.

"And you might be paranoid."

" _Please_ come home with us."

Kurogane finally withdrew his hands from the keyboard at the umpteenth repetition of this plea and sat back in his chair with a sigh. Fai was curled up in a tangle of long limbs wrapped in fleecy pajamas, holding on to a thick paperback hard enough to drive the blood from his fingertips. He'd picked up the book that afternoon in Elk Ridge after visiting his cousin and had spent all afternoon and evening reading and panicking.

Kurogane had given the blond a day's reprieve from being in complete charge of the infant so that he could study the first few chapters, and now wondered if he ought to extend the grace period a bit. Judging from his state of mind at the moment, Fai would very likely exasperate her into crying by taking her vitals every few minutes and then break down himself, thinking she'd developed colic after all.

Still, that grace did not extend to taking over complete charge of the infant himself, and then chaperoning them all to California once the mother was well enough to travel.

"I'm staying here," the shopkeeper said firmly but not unkindly, summing up a list of declarations he'd been repeating in bits and pieces throughout the evening. "You guys are going home. She doesn't have colic, jaundice or anything else you've been reading about. Everything'll work out." He turned his attention back to the computer long enough to save his work, then edged by the playpen in order to pry the baby care book out of Fai's hands. The blond stubbornly held on to it for a few tugs before letting it go and pouting up at him.

"Just for a week?" Fai pleaded. "You could help me put Yuui and Birdie through baby boot camp. Or even one weekend, long enough to get us settled?"

"Look at her," Kurogane countered, setting the book on his desk and then nodding his head at the baby. "She's healthy. She's happy. There'll be three of you. You'll be fine."

"You could come and see the room we're setting up for her and Birdie. You know, inspect it and give us your seal of approval and all that."

"Have your brother send me pictures."

Fai blew out a disappointed sigh through closed lips, making it a sort of disgruntled raspberry, and made one last effort.

"You wanted to see the ocean anyway, and if you come now you'll be doing a good deed at the same time. Two birds with one stone. It'll be more efficient; doesn't that appeal to your oh so practical nature?" Pale hands reached out to snag one of Kurogane's in a pleading gesture, and the taller let himself be tugged down onto the couch.

"You guys are going to have to do this on your own eventually; no use in putting it off," he replied, not bothering to respond to specific arguments. "I'll visit you..."

_when I'm ready_ sounded too vague and cowardly, like a mere delaying tactic or roundabout way to avoid a confrontation. But _once I find someone to buy this place_ was much too concrete, too hasty for what they were just now. Kurogane, being Kurogane, understood himself well enough to know that if things worked out he'd end up married to this dork on his couch. What he wanted was _family_ , not just an amusement or readily available sex. All in or get out. And knowing that, at some level he already felt committed to the man, to the relationship, as if he'd been in it for years already. It was somewhat akin to the "innocent until proven guilty" concept; "committed until proven incompatible". He'd tried to put it into words already during their odd game of truth or dare. He was going to treat this budding romance like the marriage it might end up being so that he would have nothing to accuse himself of later, not act like it was a meaningless fling he didn't even want and then try to do damage control once things proved serious.

But it was a long road between committing himself to making this relationship work, and committing to selling his shop and moving to California to scout for a new job and place to live.

"I'll visit you," he repeated, his tone making it a firm statement this time instead of an aborted sentence. And then to get back on to the topic at hand, he added, "And you are not reading that goddamn book anymore."

Fai began protesting but Kurogane stood firm. There were people out there who were - for their own sakes - not allowed by friends and family to visit medical websites offering self-diagnosis tools. Fai needed to be barred from this childcare book for the baby's sake. And Kurogane's sanity.

"Your brother's looking for pediatricians; just call them if you have any real concerns." He thought a moment and added, "And by real concerns I mean something like a fever, not 'she coughed once'."

"Fiiiiine," Fai semi-sulkily capitulated, but Kurogane thought he saw a shifty sort of calculating look cross the other man's face and made a mental note to hide the book later while Fai was brushing his teeth, instead of just tucking it away in a drawer.

His two guests left him alone in the office shortly after this exchange so that he could finish up his bookkeeping (and shove the book behind a stockpile of paper towels in his storeroom). After turning off all the first floor lights except the ones over the porch and one in the kitchen, Kurogane ventured upstairs to find Fai playing peek-a-boo with his tiny cousin atop the bed. Fai was kneeling near the bed, facing away from the door and totally engrossed, so the shopkeeper was able to enjoy the scene for a good ten minutes at least. The blond repeatedly hid his face behind his hands and then popped them open like double doors with a bright, "peek-a-boo!", to which the baby always responded with an absolutely delighted squeal and chortle. Once in a while when her entertainment hid behind his hands again she would give an anxious little _aawr_ , and Kurogane gave himself away with an amused snort at one particularly concerned little mew.

Fai quickly turned around at the sound and then flourished his arms like a magician doing a reveal.

"Look! Early object permanence training, to help assuage separation anxiety later when she's about five months old!" he announced. Kurogane shook his head, though he couldn't help the smile quirking his lips, and counted himself lucky that Fai wasn't citing chapters and paragraphs. He strode over to his bed and sat down, smile widening at the way the infant flapped and kicked happily at the sight of him looming over her.

"I promise I'll visit you," he said solemnly, schooling his features into a serious look worthy of vow-making. "Make sure this guy's not driving you nuts."

Fai flopped into view, wriggling close to the little girl and stage-whispering into one rosy shell of an ear while looking sidelong at Kurogane.

"I will set up the most amazing college fund for you if you'll cry incessantly the day we have to go home and only stop when Uncle Grumpy Bear holds you." Before Kurogane could comment, the baby flapped her arms and managed to whack Fai right in the nose.

"Good girl," Kurogane said, and gave her an approving tummy rub before getting up. Fai's voice followed him as he began walking back out.

"Where are you going?"

"Kitchen," he replied over one shoulder. "It's getting late and I want to see if she'll take another bottle before going down."

Fai attempted to follow with the baby but Kurogane shoo'd them back upstairs where it was warmer, then set about heating water and mixing formula. It was a little odd, how not-odd it felt to be doing such a thing. A week ago, Fai had been less than a stranger and he hadn't known this infant even existed. Now, Fai was the man he was dating and the baby they'd stumbled over and rescued together was his honorary niece of sorts. Not long ago he'd felt a little wary of how it would be once these two bright presences were gone from his home again. Now, with the promise of at least a few more days together and the hope of them both remaining in his life even if they were not immediately before him, Kurogane found himself relaxing a bit more easily into the enjoyment of this strange situation.

The unusual but not unwelcome sense of family comforts continued for a few days as they settled into a routine.

In the mornings, Kurogane woke first no matter the hour or reason, and more often than not had to spend a bit of time disentangling himself from long limbs heavy with sleep. If it was the baby monitor that had awoken him, Fai could be counted on to hop right out of bed after just a brief shake to rouse him to the point where the staticky cries pierced his slumber. If it was the alarm, however, Fai only burrowed deeper under the covers as Kurogane rolled out of bed, and no amount of jabbing or mini-lectures about laziness could get him to follow.

Kurogane opened up shop alone and then retreated back into the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast, keeping on the alert for the chimes that would announce a customer. If Fai and the baby were awake they ate together in the kitchen, and if not Kurogane ate his breakfast at the register while reading the paper or idly watching the weather out the windows. He tended to his shop as usual, restocking and cleaning and shoveling all the snow within line of sight of his porch. Within doors, Fai tidied away breakfast and prepped a simple lunch for Kurogane, leaving it fresh in the refrigerator or keeping warm in the oven as appropriate. The shopkeeper had protested that he could damn well keep himself fed, but Fai had won the point by declaring it only fair since Kurogane had made breakfast for them both, and useful besides for him to learn how to multi-task even while taking care of his little cousin.

Before leaving to visit Birdie in the hospital, Fai always prepped bottles of formula and left them in the refrigerator. Kurogane obviously could have done this himself, but they'd decided that in the spirit of teaching Fai to be the little girl's interim parent, he should act as if Kurogane was no more than a regular babysitter hired by the hour during those times when Fai had to leave her solely in his care. The blond took it a step or two further than was even necessary by Kurogane's opinion, stacking a day's worth of diapers and some changes of clothes neatly in the nursery and never leaving without showing Kurogane a list of phone numbers to call in case of emergency.

He also never left without goodbye kisses on the cheek and a cheerful "I love you" for Kurogane, and the baby too if she was awake. Kurogane returned the kisses and responded with "drive safe". Whether it was that Fai took farewells very seriously or because he knew the details of the tragedy that had left Kurogane an orphan, he never teased for a love declaration back or anything of the sort. Instead he always smiled that soft, serious smile and promised, "I will".

On the first day he returned early in the afternoon, full of his own observations about Birdie, retailed reports from the doctors, and an unusual - even for him - amount of chatter brimming with forced optimism about his cousin's prognosis. Worry seeped through his smiles and hopes as he clung to Sakura and paced small circles in front of the counter, and Kurogane listened silently. Fai spent most of the afternoon in the shop front with Kurogane, then cooked dinner while the baby napped in the playpen a safe distance from the stove. While Kurogane did paperwork in his office after dinner, Fai camped out on the couch again, playing peek-a-boo and having tummy time with the baby and making oddly specific comments on her gross motor control and other developmental milestones. Kurogane eyed him suspiciously and wondered if he'd discovered the book from its hiding place and snuck it away.

When the infant began to get drowsy and cranky about it, Fai took her upstairs. Rhythmic creaks in the first floor ceiling told Kurogane that the blond was doing laps along the hallway to ease her into slumber before putting her in the crib, and as soon as his bookkeeping was complete, Kurogane went to the back to nose around his supply of paper towels. The babycare book was still there. Soon afterwards the adults were crammed close on the couch in Kurogane's bedroom, Kurogane catching up on news while Fai had a rather extensive conversation with his brother via text. When offered some privacy so that he could call home instead, he'd shaken his head and squirmed even closer. Fai only detached himself when Kurogane caught the blond browsing an online version of the book he'd confiscated, and they capped off the day with a brief but rather intense game of keep-away.

The next day, Fai left a bit later and came home a bit later too. Birdie's fever had finally started to come down, which was excellent news, and surgery was to be scheduled as soon as her temperature stabilized. Fai came home with a couple of slices of dark chocolate torte from a fancy bakery with which to celebrate, and purchased a bottle of scotch from Kurogane to go along with it. He danced around a bit with the baby and then put her down to nap in the nursery while he cooked dinner, stopping every once in a while to trot upstairs because he didn't quite trust the baby monitor yet.

They ate cake - it was dense but not too heavy and pleasantly bitter, and Kurogane finished his piece to his own surprise - and drank to Birdie's health while playing chess on the bedroom floor, and then sat together on the bed while Fai called his brother and Kurogane idly paged through a book, trying not to pay too much attention to the conversation. He got pulled into it partway through so that he could confirm for the brother that Fai was in fact proving to be a competent caretaker. Yuui updated him on a few pediatricians he'd interviewed, then spent a few minutes thanking him for all his invaluable assistance and advice so far, and particularly for not killing his brother. The bit of humor at the end caught Kurogane by surprise. He snorted and claimed that it was no problem, then handed back the phone and decided that he liked the guy.

A couple of days later, Kurogane received a text around noon letting him know that Fai would be back a bit late. "Just some paperwork," according to the message, so he shrugged it off and replied with a thanks for the head's up. Though they'd never agreed on a set schedule for Fai's visits, still he would have worried had Fai not shown up until much later than usual without sending him any message to warn him, and he appreciated the notice. When the blond finally did return at dusk, it was with a manila envelope stuffed to bursting held to his chest and a heavy look on his face. Kurogane asked straight out how Fai's cousin was doing, but found that she was about the same, with surgery scheduled for the next day; nothing to explain the clouds hanging over that fair head. The paperwork turned out to be not related to Birdie's hospital stay, but to her child. The extra time that Fai had needed that day had been spent with a lawyer, employed mostly in handling affairs for the Fluorite family but despite this, someone trustworthy.

"He's the one who helped Yuui and I get out," Fai explained as he picked his way through dinner while holding a dozy infant against his shoulder. "He's not a Fluorite but he was more family to Yuui and me than anyone else in that clan." He went on to tell Kurogane how Birdie had wanted to make sure that Sakura would be taken care of no matter how the future unfolded, and had insisted on making it official and legally binding. Her daughter was all that she had in the world, so the hastily drawn-up will had been brief; in the event of her death, Fai and Yuui would share custody of the child. Words were chosen carefully and doled out between mouthfuls of food that seemed to be eaten for the pauses they would create rather than the nourishment they provided, and Kurogane wondered at all the things that were not being said. They went to bed early that night, and Fai snuggled close as if hiding in the crook of Kurogane's shoulder.

The next day arrived, and before the shop even opened Fai was at the door to the garage, wanting to set off early so that he could be with his cousin as she waited for pre-operative preparations to get under way. He said it was to support her spirits, but Kurogane guessed that it was as much for his own sake as for hers. Fai expressed a hope that he would be back at a somewhat decent time, but Kurogane knew better than most, how things could be. Delays were so common as to be the rule instead of the exception. As he walked Fai to the porch, he told the man to just play the day by ear and to get a hotel room for the night if things went long and he felt too tired to make the drive back up.

"I will," Fai agreed, and then put on a faint smile and reached up to give Kurogane his customary goodbye kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."

The smile was soft and endearing, like the hushed words of thanks for his care and concern, but Kurogane frowned a bit as he leaned in to return the peck. He'd been expecting at least a bit of protest against the possibility of staying away. Not that he thought the blond should always be flirting and frivolously arguing just for the sake of banter; that would have made him thoughtless and shallow, not to mention too irritating to be dating. But it felt off somehow, like Fai was drowning in his own thoughts, too distracted to react as he normally would, and all of that was perfectly natural and fine except that he had a long and treacherous drive ahead of him.

"Drive safe," Kurogane said as usual, but then found himself grabbing at Fai's elbow to stop him from running right off.

"Hey, I mean it. Pay attention to the road ahead. Worry about your cousin once you're actually at the hospital."

Fai blinked at him and opened his mouth immediately as if to give Kurogane a hasty reassurance so that he could be off. No words came out, however, and soon he sealed his lips in another slow smile, wide enough this time to crinkle his eyes.

"I love you too," Fai replied coyly, and laughed when Kurogane scowled. The laugh wasn't up to his usual brightness and cheek, but it was good enough considering the circumstances. He released the man's elbow and reached up to muss all that fair hair instead, making Fai duck away to sweep the strands back into place and giving Kurogane a few seconds in which to try and disperse the flush he could feel creeping up his face.

"Bye!" Fai trilled as he disappeared into the garage. Kurogane made no reply, but did stand on the porch long enough to watch the man drive out of sight.

The texts began arriving after about an hour.

_Drove safely, arrived safely, even parked safely! Getting ready to look both ways before I step into the parking lot._

There were a ridiculous number of kiss marks and hearts punctuating that text.

_Could you please send me a pic of Sakura if she's awake? I only got her sleeping this morning._

Kurogane sent three, knowing that they were for the little mother.

A few more texts came in rapid succession as Birdie was prepped for surgery; the names and Fai's impressions of the anesthesiologist, surgeon and head nurse, a critique of the plot of a legal drama showing on the tiny television hanging near the hospital bed, and Birdie's choice as to which of the morning's photos of her daughter was her favorite.

Kurogane sent one more, spending almost twenty minutes trying to get a decently framed, non-blurry picture of the infant laughing.

_I wish you were here with me. Is that selfish? It's not unreasonably selfish, I hope. Selfishness within reason isn't a deal-breaker, is it?_

He replied with a simple "No" and left Fai to apply it as he wished.

He got no response, but by then it was time for Birdie's surgical procedure to have gotten underway. Fai seemed to chatter when nervous and cling when upset, but Kurogane was miles too far away right now for either. It wasn't an unreasonable theory that Fai would be too anxious to find solace in mere texting or talking, and would simply sit down and pray or hope or just blankly wait the long vigil out. The phone remained silent and still for hours, and Kurogane thought nothing of it. Didn't even flinch when it suddenly buzzed, rattling slightly against the countertop.

He strode away from the front doors, having just seen a customer out, and glanced at the device as he walked back over to the playpen on the far side of the counter.

_please come get me_


	19. A Fairy Tale and a Romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to upload this for Christmas but then decided that gift-wrapping angst wasn't a very nice thing to do. The chapter ended in a completely unplanned way, too, so I had to scrap a lot of the storyline I already had planned. Once I did that I wanted to get the next chapter going to make sure I still had a story to tell (LOL), which is why this chapter was so delayed. My apologies!

He stilled his steps and stared first at the brief text, then the sender's name, cursing under his breath when the notification timed out and the screen went black. He snatched the phone up hastily, unlocking the device to re-read the text that he knew he'd read correctly the first time ( _and second, and third_ ).

There were no three little dots in the text conversation indicating that more information was forthcoming. All there was, was the plea for him to come and get him. No capitalization, no punctuation, no details and no silly little emoticons. Possible scenarios rushed at him just as the unease solidified, and none of them were pleasant; something gone wrong during surgery, unexpected and unwanted visitors at the hospital, a flat tire on the way home and Fai stranded by the side of the road, or even worse--

He shook his head before his usually dormant imagination could come up with anything worse, ( _too late, and he could see it clearly; a patch of ice, a twisted guard rail, Fai pinned within a crumpled mess of metal and jagged glass, desperately sending a text with his unbroken arm before the phone slipped from his trembling, blood-slicked fingers_ ) and tried to think through probabilities. It wasn't impossible that he was misinterpreting and grossly overreacting; Fai could have simply had a completely lazy moment and jokingly sent the text without bothering with capital letters, and then dropped his phone down a sidewalk grate before he could send a "just kidding; I'm on my way home" and some hearts.

Kurogane's gut told him otherwise, however, and he was in motion before he'd finished dismissing the less dramatic scenario. The shop was clear of customers, and he returned to the front doors to turn the lock before striding back over to the playpen, dialing Fai's number and thinking, _I will kick your ass if this is just a stupid joke_. Half threat, half hope.

The repeated _brrr_ of his call cut off suddenly and he took in a sharp breath, waiting for words, tone, background noise...anything to help him judge the situation more accurately.

"Hello."

An unfamiliar voice, deep and smooth.

"Who's this?" Kurogane demanded, surprised and then doubly impatient as his mind provided possibilities; a doctor at Mercy, a random passerby, the person who'd driven Fai off the road and was pawing over his body--

"A friend of the family. I'm afraid Mr. Fluorite cannot come to the phone at this time. May I relay a message?" Smooth and suave, polished and professional.

A friend of the family.

Kurogane gripped his phone a little harder and tightened his grip on his own temper at the same time. He had no other way of contacting Fai and whatever this person was - whether he was truly Fai's friend or only allied to the Fluorites and _whatever the hell the reason was that he was there and had Fai's phone_ \- it would do no good to antagonize him.

"He asked me to come pick him up at Mercy," Kurogane responded as evenly as he could. "I'll be there in about an hour. Tell him to wait for me in the lobby."

"Certainly. We'll see you then. Will that be all?"

He gritted his teeth at the cool, emotionless voice. He had no idea who this was but his hackles were up and he felt the urge to punch through the phone into what he felt was a smug, oily face.

"Yeah," he replied, and then ended the call, not feeling up to pleasantries such as "nice talking to you" ( _it hadn't been_ ) or even "thanks" ( _which he probably should have said_ ). He'd thought for a second to ask if Fai was all right and what had happened, but knew that he wouldn't have trusted any information relayed secondhand under these circumstances. He'd just have to go and see for himself, and the sooner the better.

Shoving his phone into his back pocket, he scooped up the infant and went upstairs. He was in a hurry but knew that rushing around to try and buy himself a couple of extra minutes here and there would not gain him much in the grand scheme of things. In point of fact it would likely just net him additional trouble later. He took the time to change the baby's diaper for the long drive ahead, layered her up in a bit more fleece against the icy weather, and packed the diaper bag with the extra diapers and clothes Fai had laid out earlier that day.

Back downstairs, he grabbed pre-mixed bottles of formula out of the refrigerator, taped an explanatory note to the front doors, and made sure all the outer lights were left on and all the locks were engaged before heading into the garage. Once the baby was properly strapped in and he himself was buckled up, he took another moment to take a breath as deep as he could make it, hold it for a few seconds, and then let it out in a measured sigh.

First things first; get to Mercy safely.

He knew the road well but did not let himself take the twists and turns casually for all that. Assuming that you knew what was around the next bend was a good way to let things take you by surprise, and he'd had quite enough of surprises in the last week or so to last him at least the next year. He stayed very deliberately focused, only checked on the infant in the few straightaways, and firmly quashed any speculations about the mysterious voice as soon as they popped up in his mind.

It was a long drive under the best of circumstances, and thankfully neither nature nor the infant in the back seat contributed any distractions. He made good time though it had seemed to take a frustrating forever, and before the predicted hour was up, was taking long strides across the parking lot with a blanket-swathed baby cuddled up to his chest and a diaper bag hanging awkwardly from his elbow because he hadn't thrown it securely enough onto his shoulder. His steps lengthened as he reached the sidewalk and he would have trotted through the entrance if the automatic doors hadn't forced him to slow down lest he smash right into the steel and glass.

He finally stopped when he got into the lobby proper, frowning as he scanned the area for a waving hand, a pale face, a shock of platinum hair. There were some strangers clumped together here and there, fragments of family waiting listlessly, a tired looking woman trying to keep a toddler shushed, a businessman watching the television hanging in one corner, a teenager slumped bonelessly in his seat but avidly fixated on the glowing screen of his tablet...

Kurogane snapped his gaze back to the businessman and realized that he'd overlooked Fai the first time, hidden as he was behind the other man who was on his feet and standing very, very near. Kurogane headed for the two, taking a slightly circuitous route so that he could get a look at Fai instead of just staring at the back of a suit jacket as he beelined in. The better look he got was no more reassuring than the sight of a stranger looming over him. Fai was curled up on the seat of a hard plastic chair, rear end slid forward until it touched the boot heels perched on the edge of the seat, long arms wrapped around his shins and face buried in his knees. His hands were locked tight together and his arms were hugging his body instead of hanging loose. He looked tense at the very least, if not outright miserable and quite possibly terrified, and it made Kurogane walk faster, step harder.

They were in an aisle of sorts formed by the rows of chairs set out in the lobby, and Kurogane deliberately circled around to the other end to get Fai between him and the stranger. If this by some strange sick chance was a relative ( _not family; the brother was Fai's only family_ ) or the baby's father, Kurogane didn't want to have to push past the man to get to Fai, especially while he had the baby held against him.

He locked eyes with the stranger when he entered the aisle, and bristled when the man moved forward as if to keep himself between Kurogane and Fai. Long black hair without a strand out of place, deceptively sleepy eyes under delicately arched brows, pianist's fingers with neatly manicured nails cradling a phone that looked very much like Fai's and a lean figure wearing an expensive suit like it was both a king's robe and a knight's suit of armor. If he'd actually taken those few steps to block Kurogane's path, Kurogane would have hated him on sight and only the baby would have kept him from balling up a fist in preparation and promise, but oddly enough the man dropped his gaze to the infant and then made a silent "ah" sort of motion before swaying back again.

Kurogane dropped the diaper bag into the chair next to Fai, deliberately careless about the noise and jolt. The blond startled, loosening his hands and coming all unraveled like a bundle of straw after the string holding it together had snapped. His feet slipped to the floor and he jerked up with a gasp as if he'd been holding his breath all this time. In the time it took for Fai to rake his gaze up the figure that had suddenly materialized before him, Kurogane took in every new detail he could, and all the unease he'd kicked away at home came rushing back at him.

Fai was here, and alive, and uninjured, but there was something in his eyes that made Kurogane think suddenly of a badly wounded animal. Something trapped that should have been free, something crippled that should have been able to fly. Wild, uncomprehending, desperate and in pain. He wasn't weeping but there were traces of tears in his reddened eyes and splotchy cheeks, and most of all he just looked bewildered. Whatever had happened, Fai was either unable to grasp the reality of it, or unable to look forward to a point in time when it would be a thing in the past instead of engulfing his entire present.

"Hey," Kurogane said quietly, questioningly, and Fai replied with an exhale that was more than half sob. And then, just like the stranger had, Fai dropped his gaze to the infant. Where the sight of her had made the suit back off, however, it seemed to galvanize Fai, who surged out of his chair and curled himself against her back as if he needed to hold her but couldn't wait for Kurogane to actually hand her off. She'd been dozing, face half-covered by the thin blanket Kurogane had draped over her, but at the contact she came awake and began warbling back to the noises Fai was making.

Kurogane strained to hear what Fai was saying, his voice barely distinguishable under the baby's burbling and all the white noise of a busy hospital, and then almost regretted doing so. It was " _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,_ " over and over in whispered screams half-muffled into the soft folds of the blanket, and it tore at Kurogane to hear it.

"Hey," he said again, because he had no idea what else to say, and did his best to hold Fai close with only one arm free. He would have been amenable to simply standing there while Fai had his cry, but there was the man in the suit still standing near. He wasn't within arm's reach, but he was staring steadily at them in a way that made his presence intrusive, at least in Kurogane's opinion. The faint smile gracing that smooth face also seemed irritatingly inappropriate given Fai's state, and Kurogane stared right back, trying to be as menacing as he could be while cuddling his boyfriend and a cooing chublet.

As soon as his belligerence caught the stranger's notice, the man spoke, but not to Kurogane.

"Fai, why don't you sit down with Sakura while I talk to your friend?"

It was the same voice from before, even more smooth and cultured now that it wasn't sullied by the limitations of a tiny phone speaker, and it just raised Kurogane's hackles higher. He almost snapped that he was Fai's _boyfriend_ just to claim a little bit more right to be here and take care of him, and demanded to know who the hell this man was and what right he had to order people around. But that was part of the problem he was facing; he _didn't_ know who the hell this man was, and what rights or authority he might actually have when it came to Fai, or even anything about what was going on.

Kurogane stayed quiet and stood his ground, feeling a sort of relief when Fai pulled away and pulled himself together somewhat, shaking his head in a negative while wiping haphazardly at his face.

"No," Fai said in a quiet rasp, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Thank you, but no. I'll...I'll tell him myself. Later."

"If that's what you prefer," the man replied with a gracious nod as if conferring a favor instead of conceding a point. "I will stay here and see to everything we agreed upon, then. I'll contact you and Yuui if there are any new developments, but otherwise, take care." The man smiled a bit wider and held out the phone in his hand, and Fai stepped forward to take it. And did not just step forward, but stepped into the other man's personal space as if expecting the careful embrace, quiet murmur into one ear, and the lingering touch of foreheads that followed.

Kurogane blinked.

Sooner than he could form any real opinion about this, Fai was back again. Kurogane wasted no time in questions, only wanting to get those he felt a protective interest in out of this place. To that end, he handed the baby off to Fai who took her eagerly, though it was not without a broken little sigh stuttering out of his body and threatening to shake a new tear loose. Kurogane scooped up the baby's bag, unbent so far as to give the stranger a cursory nod goodbye, and then began herding the blond out of the aisle.

"Home?" he asked, and when Fai nodded, put a hand to the small of his back and guided him out of the lobby.

Neither man spoke a word on their way to the car, and Kurogane assumed that the drive would be made in silence, with Fai probably wanting the security of four familiar walls and welcoming cushions, perhaps the comfort of a cup of coffee or arms to cuddle into before he could bring himself to start what promised to be an unhappy conversation. For a while Fai just stared at the little dimpled hand hanging over the edge of the carseat in the back, twisted around in his own seat in a way that Kurogane wouldn't have thought was possible without dislocating one's spine. Eventually he faced forward, only to curl up against the window with a sigh, remaining quiet and still for so long that Kurogane would have thought he'd fallen asleep if not for the tight, tense set of his shoulders.

They reached the cabin without anyone breaking the silence, though Kurogane'd noticed Fai turning slightly now and again to look sidelong at him. Whenever he'd glanced over, Fai hadn't avoiding catching his gaze, but hadn't held it for more than a second or two either. A brief look and then the blond had turned away to stare out the window again, and Kurogane hadn't pressed for conversation. The road demanded too much of his attention.

Once they were inside again, he ripped his hastily written away note from the front window but did not unlock the doors, and when he turned around, Fai was standing near, the baby held close against him.

"You're not opening your shop back up?" the blond asked, gazing at the doors without any real curiosity animating his expression, and his voice flat as if he were asking the question just to be polite.

"If someone needs something bad enough to knock for it I'll let 'em in," Kurogane replied. "Otherwise Princess and dinner prep'll keep us busy enough. Or we can talk."

The strange sort of blankness - a self-preservative numbness, perhaps - that had fallen over Fai in the car survived most of this, but at the last suggestion that Kurogane bluntly tacked on, his face crumbled a bit. He shook his head and gave Kurogane a pained looking smile.

"I'll change and feed her, maybe give her a bath," Fai said. "Do you have any good soup recipes?"

"Yeah," Kurogane replied, but it was accompanied by a look. The sort of look that wasn't accusing or threatening by any means, but did convey the distinct impression that more was expected than what he'd just been given. It was only partly a desire to know what was going on, and mostly understanding that it wasn't healthy to keep things bottled up inside. Fai needed to talk, and not just because he'd promised the man in the suit to relay something to Kurogane.

"I do have to talk to you," Fai added, a little more earnest, a little more present. "I just...need a little more time."

Kurogane nodded, satisfied for now. For his curiosity's sake alone he could have wished for immediate enlightenment, but whatever was going on with Birdie and the baby was Fai's business, and how much to share or not was really up to Fai.

"That's fine," he said, and led them back out of the shop front. "Lemme know if you need anything."

Fai nodded and disappeared upstairs with the baby and her diaper bag, and he must have successfully tried her on one of the chilled bottles of formula still in the bag because they didn't reappear during time it took for Kurogane to make dinner. He had a very simple soup recipe that he often fell back on when not particularly motivated to cook anything in particular. It was a basic broth full of herbs, onions, carrots and ground turkey, and he tended to make a big pot and just eat lunch and dinner from it until it was gone, adding a bit of something each day to keep it from getting boring. Some tomatoes on the second day, a bit of sausage the next, something green after that. It was healthful and simple and comforting, tasted of home even though it was his own recipe and not his parents', and seemed like exactly the right thing to make.

Once he had a big pot of soup simmering away nicely, he toasted some bread and set the table. After doing a lap of the storefront to make sure everything was in order and still finding himself alone downstairs, he began washing up the items he'd dirtied while cooking. And then when he ran out of things to do, he covered the pot, turned off the stove, and went looking for Fai.

The bathroom light was on, but the door was wide open and no one inside. Water clung to the small plastic baby bath and the air was still damp but cooled off instead of steamy. He flicked off the switch and glanced into the nursery but the crib was empty, so he walked down the hall to his own room instead, which was dimly lit by his desktop lamp.

They were on the bed, the baby placed near the far wall and Fai on his side in the middle, curled close and protective. Kurogane walked over, sock feet quiet on the floors but the boards creaking an announcement of his presence. Fai didn't roll over to face him, much less get up to ask if dinner was ready, so he sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned in, propping himself up on one arm and checking on his two guests. The little mite seemed conked completely out, cheeks flushed and eyes buttoned up tight, but Fai was obviously awake; one pale hand resting lightly over the baby's stomach, thumb tracing slow small circles over the sheep print fleece she was bundled in.

"I gave her a bath," Fai murmured suddenly, his voice back to that listless monotone of before. "Fed her a bottle from the bag. It was still cold so I figured it was safe, and I warmed it up in a little basin of hot water while I bathed her."

Kurogane glanced down but Fai hadn't moved, hadn't looked up at him. The blond hadn't said anything out of the ordinary, but somehow the words felt like a prelude to more, like dipping a toe into cold water before committing oneself. Instead of replying and then suggesting dinner, Kurogane leaned back and then laid down on the bed as well, lowering himself carefully so as not to jostle the baby awake. He was positioned a little higher on the bed than Fai, and as he pillowed his head on his arm, laid his free hand on Fai's elbow in mute support.

"I have to tell you a story," Fai then said, and Kurogane raised an eyebrow at this odd statement but remained silent, waiting for more. Fai soon started the tale, his words oddly simplified as if this was indeed a fairy tale, and telling it in steady little bursts, like something retold instead of made up on the spot and modified on the fly.

"A young girl ran away from home. She lived on the street, got involved with a bad crowd, and had a baby. One day she was injured. No one knows how. She tried to get help at a hospital but..."

The blank tone trembled, faltered and then stuttered to a halt. The end of the sentence was pretty damn clear. Kurogane couldn't feel much grief over the death of someone he'd only glanced at through a window once but he understood the pain of losing someone dear, and curled closer to the slender form before him, slipping his arm down to cradle and comfort instead of merely being present.

Fai soon forced a recovery, wiping at his eyes with the heel of one hand and taking in deep breaths.

"The girl died," he continued in a rough whisper. "But a nice stranger who found her baby in a taxi decided to pay for her burial and adopt her baby, and raise it with his brother. The end."

As Kurogane frowned over some of the details - or rather the details that had been left out - Fai slowly squirmed around so that he could meet the other man's gaze.

"That's the story we're telling if anyone asks, and I need to ask you to stick to it too," Fai said. And then he added, "None of it's a lie."

It was probably meant to be a reassurance, to help win over the man who Fai knew could be a stickler for honesty, but it only prompted Kurogane to press for more information.

"What lies are we leaving out?" he asked, implying cooperation by using "we" instead of "you", but wanting to know all if he was going to part of a conspiracy. Fai wrinkled his nose and sighed heavily. He stayed facing Kurogane but he dropped his gaze away and fiddled with a fold of the shopkeeper's shirt for a moment before answering.

"Sakura's background, mostly," Fai began, and there was a brief glance back up, all fierce protectiveness and determination. "It's to protect her. She's going to get the safe, happy, _normal_ life that her mother couldn't have, and she doesn't need any mysteries in her past." Kurogane had nothing to say in opposition, and Fai soon settled back down into the curve of Kurogane's arm.

"We're getting her a birth certificate. It'll stand up in court but some of the details will be fudged, like the physician in attendance. Birdie will have to remain Jane Doe, and Mr. Ashura listed my brother as the father to help our claim to her," he continued, but Kurogane interrupted him.

"Mister who?"

"Ashura. He was at the hospital. He's the one I told you about when I had all that paperwork?"

Kurogane recalled that conversation; Fai hadn't mentioned names, but had told Kurogane about the attorney who worked for the Fluorites and yet had been a friend and advisor to the brothers, and had helped them realize their hopes of breaking away from the family and claiming independence. Kurogane had imagined someone kindly-looking, out of place among that corrupt family like a dog that had wandered into wolf territory. Perhaps older, smiling and inoffensive enough not to anger anyone with the power to fire him, overlooked when budget cuts came around because he helped round out the age demographics.

"That was him?" he asked unthinkingly, and more of his thoughts must have leaked into his tone and his expression than he knew, because Fai now frowned up at him, nettled instead of mourning.

"He's a good man," Fai defended, getting visibly worked up and raising himself up off the bed at the same time. "He's good at what he does and what he does isn't always right, but better him doing their dirty work than someone else who'd do it and _like it_. Who'd be even crueler. He finds ways to do good even in the middle of all that corruption and if it wasn't for him Yuui and I might've--"

He bit the end of his sentence off and suddenly looked conflicted, sat half up and hair all mussed from the pillow. He clearly hadn't meant to react so strongly to an opinion Kurogane hadn't even clearly voiced, and seemed to be wishing he could take it all back. Before he could gather up a new train of thought Kurogane tried to diffuse some of the tension in the air.

"Sorry," he offered, already kicking himself a bit. If nothing else Fai should have taught him by now that his old prejudice against "city people" was just that; a prejudice, ignorant and narrow-minded. He didn't try to excuse himself either, with his worry and care. If you'd done wrong then you admitted to it, and you didn't dilute the apology by trying to defend yourself unless the person you were apologizing to wanted to know the details.

The apology seemed to disarm Fai completely, and the brief flare of anger fell away like so much ash, leaving him looking down at Kurogane with an expression ready to crumple back into tears. They stared at each other for a long, drawn out moment and then Kurogane reached up on impulse to drag Fai back down to the bed. And when Fai nestled close, more laying on and against him instead of lying down alongside him again, it was the most natural thing in the world to put his arms around that slender form and hold tight.

Having someone else's arms holding him together seemed to be the cue for Fai to let himself fall apart. He alternated between grieving and trying to pull himself back together while Kurogane just waited out the strangled sobs and stuttering attempts at drawing in even breaths, tucking Fai's head under his chin and occasionally glancing over to check on the infant calmly snoozing nearby. Bits and pieces of information - some new, some often repeated - were dropped between choked-off breaths, and Kurogane pieced together more of the day's events as he listened.

Birdie hadn't even made it into surgery. One moment she'd been poring over the pictures of her daughter on Fai's phone and the next, a seizure of some sort had swept over her, setting off alarms and making Fai dash to the door to cry for help. He'd been shoved roughly aside and kept out of the room by the doctors and nurses who'd rushed to Birdie's aid, and while the rush of activity hadn't actually continued for all that long, panic made every second seem like an hour and after fretting for a moment outside Fai had suddenly wanted to reach out to someone for help.

He hadn't been thinking all too clearly; only knowing that he wanted someone to come and do _something_ , at least be there with him. But his phone was still in Birdie's room, knocked to the floor during the attack, and he hadn't been able to remember Kurogane's number. Mister Ashura had still been in the area and so Fai had called him from a pay phone, panicked and inarticulate and he couldn't even remember what he'd said but before he knew it Mister Ashura had tracked him down.

It had been an unthinking impulse to call the man; an instinctive reaching out based on a childhood impression of someone strong and capable and able to save the day though he hadn't always been present to do so. It had turned out to be exactly the right thing to do. Already familiar with Birdie's situation and her wishes, as well as knowing Fai and Yuui's desire to do what they could for her, he smoothly took over and directed everything, including the hospital staff.

The one thing he hadn't been able to control was life, and Birdie had passed away while Fai had been on the phone. Mister Ashura had re-introduced himself to hospital administration he'd met a few days prior and taken on the burden of making decisions that would have been overwhelming for Fai to have had to deal with. The diagnosis of an embolism had been accepted, an autopsy discussed but declined, calls made to local florists and funeral parlors, and a plot purchased at the little cemetery on the outskirts of the city.

Birdie was to be cremated and interred as Jane Doe, quietly and without any ceremony; a nameless nobody with no one to remark upon her passing, and that was one of the things stabbing at Fai the most now as he cried into Kurogane's shirt.

"We finally found her and now she's lost again," he said, heartbroken and angry and bewildered all at once. "Yuui never even got to see her and now she's gone and we're not even supposed to visit her. It's like she never even existed. After all that struggle and she just...disappears!"

Kurogane held him and thought over all he'd been told, wondering a little at all the secrecy that Fai and this Ashura person seemed to think necessary. He let Fai go on pouring out his upset at life's injustices for a while and then began asking questions; little things like where exactly Birdie was to be buried and why he himself had needed to be given a story to tell, as if they were all witnesses being prepped for a trial.

It turned out that a legal battle was exactly what they were trying to avoid. The Fluorite Hotel legacy was an empire, not a meritocracy; control of businesses and stocks were passed down to children rather than assigned to the most qualified candidate. As the family grew larger, squabbles over power grew more frequent, and every marriage and birth was scrutinized and strategized over. Fai and Yuui had sold their stake in the family and purchased independence, but Birdie had only run away, and that meant Sakura was still legally entitled to - ensnared in - part of that empire.

Even in his upset, Fai was still reticent, skirting around certain details as he continued to answer and explain, tracing and retracing the day's decisions and the future's possibilities. Erasing the few clues to Sakura's origin had been the best and quietest solution to the problem, and that had meant sinking Birdie's ultimate fate into oblivion. So far as the Fluorites knew, Birdie had run away and simply become lost, never to be found.

Mister Ashura had thought it better that her child should be placed in an orphanage, utterly anonymous, but Fai had absolutely refused to even consider the thought. He and Yuui would continue to live quietly under the radar and raise their cousin as their impulsive charitable project, and Mister Ashura would do what he could to keep the family's eyes off of them. And if questions ever did arise, well...Fai had a plan, and that was all he was willing to say on the matter.

Kurogane was not a key player in this daytime drama-esque tangle, but he was certainly involved. Fai expressed a somewhat hesitant hope that he would _continue_ to be involved, and Kurogane frowned at the implication. He was no paranoid coward, to be chased away by nebulous fears that someday someone might come nosing into his business, asking questions that he had every right to respond to with a suggestion that they get lost up their own rear ends. He told Fai so quite bluntly and was rewarded with a faint smile and fond look.

"I'm glad you're here," Fai murmured. "I'm so thankful that I finally met you, even. I can't even imagine how all this would have turned out if you hadn't been here, knowing how to take care of babies and being willing to help complete strangers." Fai brought one hand up to lightly touch Kurogane's face, as if wondering that the man actually existed.

Kurogane considered the situation from his own standpoint. His life had certainly been less complicated a week ago, but despite everything, he honestly couldn't say that it had been better. He was thankful too, that they'd met, that he'd been able to help, that he'd gotten to know the strangers that fate had dumped on his doorstep.

He was thankful that he'd gotten attached to them.

It wasn't love (yet), but it was certainly _something_. Practically speaking he knew that if Fai and the baby walked out of his life tomorrow and never returned, he'd get over it and move on. But something welled up in his chest at the very thought, protesting and poignant and piercing. He adored the little baby, quite naturally. He felt possessive and protective of her and honestly might not have minded if Fai had asked to put Kurogane's name on the birth certificate as part of her cover story. (It would have helped explain the choice of her name, in point of fact.)

And as for Fai himself, it was harder to define how he felt, but it was no less real and demanding an emotion for all that. Admiring, interested, fond. Sometimes perplexed, sometimes exasperated. There were times when he wanted to smack him upside the head. There were also times when he wanted to draw him close and hold him tight enough to make breathing a bit harder than it was ordinarily, sneak his hands underneath Fai's clothes so that he could run them down the smooth planes of that lean back without fabric wrinkling and bunching and just generally getting in the way.

He wanted to keep Fai. He still wasn't sure how he wanted the future to play out exactly, or even in what city and state, but he suddenly determined in a rush of protective possessiveness that he definitely wanted to keep him. In his thoughts, in his heart, and in his life. He wanted that right of affection; to be able to contact him whenever he wanted for no other reason than that he missed the sound of his voice, to enjoy that upwelling of random curiosity ( _what was your day like, what are you thinking, what do you sound like when I dig my fingers in and drag them down your back_ ) because he knew it would be satisfied.

It wasn't love (yet)...and then again maybe it was. A beginning at least, if nothing else. It wasn't something he could put into words though, and Fai was still looking up at him, the last traces of his smile fading as sorrow rose up again to wash it away, but also a bit of curiosity in his expression at being the object of this silent, drawn-out stare. Kurogane's natural impulse was to kiss him, and he only waited long enough to turn impulse into a deliberate decision before leaning in.

He caught blue eyes opening wide as he closed his own, and heard a surprised little breath in just as he made contact. Fai's lips were warm and soft, lightly chapped from winter's harshness and pressing back against his after an instant's shocked immobility. He would have pulled back after just a quick kiss - just long enough to make it official - but there were slender hands sliding up along his face to cradle his head and he wasn't unwilling to go along with the mute request to draw the moment out. He already had his arms around the other man, and when Fai drew in a quick, deep breath as if needing to expand his rib cage to be able to contain all the feelings within, tightened his hold and dragged him even closer.


	20. Okay...now what?

As far as first kisses generally went, Kurogane thought that this one had been as good as it could get. Simple, meaningful and warm. He'd pulled away first, a little breathless, and found himself self-satisfied at the look on Fai's face. Pale lids stayed closed for a beat and then slowly fluttered open, and Kurogane found himself on the receiving end of a wondering, almost awed look. A smile spread over Fai's face, small but untainted with the sorrow that had so recently overwhelmed him.

The moment spun out for a bit longer, and then Fai's smile turned a little lopsided; a touch impish, a shade regretful, visibly forced but still an honest smile.

"I wish you'd agreed to marry me already," he murmured. "Comfort sex would be awesome right about now."

Kurogane snorted, not at all upset over the broken mood. He hadn't meant the gesture as a pity kiss or any such thing and was content with Fai for not suspecting it to be so. If anything it was encouraging to have the blond be able to make a joke. He knew that grieving was necessary for healing, but didn't want to see Fai overwhelmed and drowning in it either.

"How about comfort _food_?" he replied. "I made soup."

"That's going to have to be some really killer soup to compete with sex," Fai said with mocking dubiousness, but he gathered himself up with a resigned sigh and then began heaving himself up off the bed. He paused, however, and then looked back at the baby with a frown.

"She'll be fine where she is. We can bring the baby monitor in here," Kurogane said, but Fai didn't move, only stared at the infant and worried at his bottom lip. She was all that Fai had left of his once-again lost cousin and Kurogane could understand wanting to cling to her, of being afraid to let her out of his sight lest she be swept away from him too. If Tomoyo had been left to him but his parents taken, he could imagine that he would have been the most insufferably overprotective guardian in all the world as she grew up.

"Just bring her with you," he amended.

"I don't want to wake her up though," Fai protested, though weakly.

"She'll either fuss herself back to sleep or want to eat. She's not trying to catch z's because she's got an important business meeting to go to tomorrow."

Fai didn't need much persuasion, and began creeping over the bedding before Kurogane was done speaking. The infant barely stirred as she was carefully lifted up and settled against Fai's chest, and soon enough they were seated at the kitchen table downstairs. Kurogane insisted on holding the infant so that Fai could get a proper meal in instead of trying to eat soup out of the side of his mouth in tiny sips to avoid the possibility of dripping on the baby. At first the blond forced a few spoonfuls down just to be polite, but Kurogane soon had the satisfaction of seeing him scoop the bowl clean and go for seconds. Given the day he'd just had, the shopkeeper could guess that Fai hadn't had anything to eat or drink since breakfast, and he wordlessly kept the man's water glass filled and his plate supplied with bread in between bites of his own dinner.

Once he'd had his fill, Fai pushed his bowl away and sighed, but it wasn't a happy sigh of contentment. It stuttered at the end and almost hitched into a sob, but he hid his face in his hands for a moment and soon looked up at Kurogane, eyes dry and a wan smile tugging at his mouth.

"Sorry," he whispered, but Kurogane shook his head. Fai took in another breath and sighed it out, steadier this time, and then held his hands out for the baby.

Kurogane handed her off and made short work of the rest of his dinner. They cleared the table in relative silence, and Fai waltzed the still-slumbering baby around the kitchen as Kurogane did the dishes. She woke up hungry just as the adults began to eye each other, both wondering what might be next on the agenda, and Fai disappeared upstairs to change her while Kurogane heated up a bottle.

They ended up on the bed again, since they weren't in the mood for television and it allowed them to sprawl out with greater comfort than the small couch. Fai sat down first and leaned against the headboard but when Kurogane crawled over the bed to sit next to him, the blond shuffled over until he was nestled up against the shopkeeper's side instead. Kurogane settled his hand around a slim hip and idled away a minute or so watching the hungrily nursing infant over Fai's shoulder.

His thoughts drifted quite naturally from her to her mother, and then to Fai and Yuui who were apparently her legal guardians now. He tried to recall and sort through all that he'd been told; Birdie's cover story and how she was to be buried in anonymity, the mystery that Sakura was to be wrapped in to keep her safe.

"How long are you staying?" Kurogane asked without any preamble, almost before the question had finished forming in his mind. Fai's stay had been indeterminate the day before, based entirely on how long it would take Birdie to be discharged and then gain strength enough for the trip to California. Now, he had nothing to wait for. If he was suddenly gripped with a desire to be at home and introduce Sakura to his brother, the blond could be gone the next morning.

The question seemed to take Fai unawares, and it was a while before he attempted an answer.

"I hadn't thought that far ahead," he eventually admitted with a sigh. "Not much longer, I guess. Yuui will need me - I was originally scheduled to have been back already, actually - and he'll want to see Sakura as soon as possible." A tiny dimpled fist was clutching tight to the hand holding the bottle of formula steady, and Fai caressed it lightly with a free finger.

Another sigh, and then,

"I wish you were coming with us."

It was quietly spoken, and simply a statement. It wasn't a renewed request or reproach, not a subtle question about whether he really could or just didn't want to. It was only a soft, sad thought, said to relieve at least one feeling out of the overwhelming mass.

"I know," Kurogane said, and dropped a kiss to Fai's temple. They settled back into silence after that brief exchange, leaning against each other, seeking comfort and offering it, and only roused themselves again once the baby polished off her meal. Fai began burp duty while Kurogane went downstairs to wash the bottle, but the taller took her once he was back upstairs.

"Why don't you go ahead and look up flights," he suggested, nodding toward the desk near the bed. "You can use my computer."

"I can do all that tomorrow," Fai hedged, making Kurogane scoff at this obvious reluctance to start the parting process.

"Didn't say you needed to book the first available flight," he said dryly. "Just don't see the use in putting it off."

"You go to the dentist every six months and do your taxes in February, don't you," Fai accused him, but he obediently pulled out the desk chair and wiggled the mouse about to wake the computer up. He asked for a password but rescinded the request with a surprised, "oh, never mind" when he was taken straight to the desktop. Living alone as he did now, Kurogane saw no need for such security measures.

Fai rang his brother up while he typed and Kurogane left the room as soon as the conversation grew emotional, which was five words after the initial "hi". He closed the door behind him and paced around in the nursery until he got a satisfactory belch or two out of the infant, then tried to impartially decide whether or not she looked drowsy enough to put down.

She was warm and slightly heavy-eyed but still looking around and warbling to herself now and then, and he admitted to himself that he wanted to indulge in holding her as much as was practical now that he knew she would be gone from the house soon. A quick, stealthy listen-in at his bedroom door revealed Fai still on the phone, so Kurogane went downstairs and idly browsed his shop with her, making a mental list of tasks for the morrow.

He needed to re-stock tissue paper. It was about time to do an inventory review as well, and discard anything too close to its expiration date. The shelves looked as though they could do with a thorough dusting, but he would put that off until the baby wasn't spending her days in a playpen in the storefront.

Kurogane wondered if the shop would feel empty without her there. If his home would seem lonelier without the expectation of Fai sharing all his meals. If his bed would be colder with only his own body to warm it.

Fai appeared as if summoned by his thoughts, stepping into the shop front and beelining toward Kurogane, not stopping until he had to. He buried his face into Kurogane's chest, nuzzling into the little space near the baby's head and giving a weak chuckle as she cooed happily and batted at him.

"I booked a flight for the morning after next," he said, voice muffled. "Now you have to tell me what an awesomely responsible and functional adult I am, and how in love with me you are, and that you won't be able to bear being apart from me for more than a day or two."

Kurogane felt a slight pang over how soon he would have to part from these two, though not to the degree which Fai described. Firmly quashing it, he snorted at his boyfriend's demands.

"Congratulations on acting like the grown-ass man that you actually are."

" _Mean_."

"Good job," Kurogane amended, and leaned down to drop a kiss to Fai's hair.

It had been a long, draining day capping off a stressful week, and after a few minutes of light banter Fai unwound enough for his shoulders to droop down and exhaustion to creep up on him. After three jaw-cracking yawns in quick succession he didn't even protest when Kurogane ordered him to turn in first. Fai groggily wiped away sleepy tears and then departed after distributing a couple of cheek-kisses, leaving Kurogane to play with the infant until she began to nod off as well.

About an hour passed before Kurogane was finally ready for bed, but when he cautiously crawled over the coverlet Fai stirred immediately.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, as Fai lifted his head up.

"Can't stop thinking," Fai replied in a rusty whisper, and held up the blankets in invitation. Kurogane scooted into the space offered, shivering away from the still-cold sheets on the far side of the bed and dragging the two of them closer with one arm.

"Think of something boring," he suggested, nuzzling absently into the pale hair tickling at his face. Fai cuddled even closer, pressing against him where he could; a cold nose to his neck, fingers finding purchase in his clothes, socked feet squeezing under one of his calves. He spoke again, voice a little smoother this time, and lilting up in curiosity.

"Boring? Aren't you supposed to tell me to think of something happy?"

"No, 'cause I want you to get bored and fall asleep."

Fai chuckled, warm breath feathering across Kurogane's skin.

"How are you so practical and yet not the most boring person alive?"

"Dunno. Close your eyes and try to figure it out."

"Goodnight kiss?"

Kurogane was already comfortably settled but it wasn't an unreasonable request, nor one that he honestly felt all that unmotivated to grant. He shifted back a bit and Fai scooched up, and they met somewhere in between for a quick kiss. It was only as he drew back that Kurogane realized that Fai hadn't actually specified lips, but even as he mentally shrugged at himself for it he was tipping his head to plant another peck, because...well, just because.

Because Fai had had one hell of a horrible day, and could probably use a bit of extra comfort. Because he was warm and soft and a nice heavy weight in the bed. Because despite emotion and exhaustion making that pale face even paler in the dimness and carving hollows under his eyes, his little smile was still endearing. Because he'd be gone soon and they might as well get in an extra kiss or two while they could. Because Kurogane felt like it.

The late hour and long day kept the soft kisses from becoming anything heated, and after a bit of nipping and nuzzling at each other they naturally broke off and shuffled back together, giving up kisses for closeness. Kurogane wrapped the other man up in his arms and drew his feet in a little closer by hooking one ankle over them, and Fai seemed to curl into himself, as if to hide in the nooks and crannies of Kurogane's embrace.

Limbs got a little squished, there was an elbow pressing against ribs and they were probably going to wake up with cricks in their necks, but it was comfortable and comforting. Fai's breathing evened out almost instantly, and Kurogane drifted off not much later while idly thinking over the next day's schedule and deliberately not thinking about the day after that.


	21. Fai Plans their Wedding, Kurogane Chooses the Honeymoon Location

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my readers and followers for your patience. The past few years have been...yeah. Basically nothing I’d wish on an enemy. My health, work, home life, and primary relationships are now stable enough that I’m cautiously dipping my toes back into fan-waters. Thank you for your support and well wishes!

There was no gradual waking consisting of incremental increases in the awareness of the other person in the bed, of going from wondering what that pressure was against his ribcage to realizing that his new boyfriend's fist was being squeezed uncomfortably between their torsos, of being too sleepy to bother moving his head but too annoyed by the hair tickling his nose to fall back asleep and finally shifting his face a bit with a put-upon huff. Instead of slowly waking up to warmth and contentment and maybe a little internal debate about whether it was wisdom or foolishness to start off a busy day with a nuzzle at the soft curve of Fai's neck, Kurogane was jolted out of bed by a piercing cry, and Fai was jolted out of a deep sleep by his pseudo pillow effectively flipping him like a fried egg.

The baby sounded terrified or tormented, and Kurogane was too busy trying not to have a heart attack while untangling himself from the blankets to answer Fai's startled "Whatwhywhat?!"

"Hey hey hey, calm down, I'm right here," Kurogane called out as calmly as he could manage while taking long strides down the hallway and into the nursery. There were no timber wolves snarling through the bars of the crib, no sudden cave-in of the roof, no shattered window and broken bird. The baby's diaper was a bit heavy but she'd suffered worse before and much more quietly, and a quick once-over while changing her confirmed that she hadn't magically produced a safety pin or pair of scissors from somewhere and done herself an injury. The baby was just upset, and Kurogane's eventual diagnosis was a nightmare.

God only knew she had enough to cry about, though she didn't even know it yet. He gave her a quick cuddle and pat, and only spared a split second's thought for the fact that he himself continued to sleep soundly through the nights without being terrified awake. Well, at least as long as this little charmer stayed quiet, he did.

By the time he had her fastened cozily up, her cries had gone down a bit in volume but there were still fat tears rolling down her reddened cheeks, and she kept sucking in deep breaths and letting them out angrily. Fai had appeared and was hovering unhappily, shooting off short queries such as "zipper pinch?", "crib splinter?", and "spider bite?" that Kurogane just answered "no" to one after the other.

"Probably had a nightmare and got pissed off that no one was there when she woke up."

"Poor baby," Fai said mournfully, and took her into his own arms while Kurogane disposed of the soiled diaper. "Well you'll be rooming with Yuui and me so there'll always be someone to pick you up whenever you want."

"You're going to spoil her," Kurogane protested over one shoulder on the way to the bathroom, and found himself promptly shut down while he washed his hands.

"It's impossible to spoil a young infant," Fai said authoritatively. An impressive feat considering he was dancing the baby around, making his sleep-rumpled hair wave about like weeds under water, and yet he put a good bit of confidence and command into his voice. "They're not sophisticated enough to be manipulative yet, and until they're about six months old they only cry based on basic needs and primal emotions. Personal motivations won't appear for a few more months yet."

Kurogane snorted, amused despite himself, and then posed a question.

"Okay mister I-read-one-book-and-now-I'm-an-expert, when she hits six months and starts to need more boundaries, are you gonna be able to kick the habit of giving her whatever she wants as soon as she makes a sad face?"

Fai pursed his lips and frowned, leaned back so that he could consider his tiny cousin's still-flushed face and dewy eyes, then wrinkled his nose in defeat.

"Nope," the blond conceded, and then rounded on Kurogane again. "Okay, you have four months."

"Until what?" Kurogane asked, perplexed.

"You move in with us and save our little kitten here from growing up a spoiled brat by raising her with me and Yuui," Fai declared with a grin.

"Your brother seems level-headed, amazingly enough," Kurogane noted with another snort. "He'll have to step up and be the disciplinarian."

"Ooh that means I'll be the fun one. Nice," Fai said, relegating his supposedly much-loved brother to the role of stick-in-the-mud without any hesitation.

They split up to take turns getting through the morning necessities such as brushing their teeth and making breakfast while also tending to the baby's wants and needs. Once they were dressed the shop was opened up for the day and the adults settled into what almost felt like normalcy and routine, save that Fai seemed to want to take selfies and pictures every few minutes. ( _"To remember you by, Kuro-grizzly." "How bad is your memory?! One picture oughta be enough!"_ ) The baby quieted down once she had a bellyful of formula but remained a touch fussy, getting upset whenever Kurogane set her down in the playpen.

After dishing out an apologetic belly rub or two, he was perfectly willing to let her complain while he washed a few dishes or strode out to the front of the shop to attend to a customer, but invariably Fai appeared and rescued her from "baby jail" as he began calling it before she got worked up enough for tears. The shopkeeper had to field a few more anxious questions about the possibilities of acute appendicitis and bacterial meningitis.

"She's probably upset because she knows she'll have to say goodbye to her grumpy old bear soon," Fai eventually sighed, so convincingly sorrowful that Kurogane leveled a suspicious stare at him for a few seconds before deciding that the blond was just being melodramatic.

"Don't start. She does just fine with you and soon she'll have two uncles spoiling her silly." Then, changing topics, Kurogane asked, "So how do you want to do this? Does your car stay here, or are you driving yourself to the airport or what?"

"Oh, no, that car stays at the cabin," Fai said. "I usually take a car service down."

It was said hesitantly, hopefully. Fai didn't state outright that that was his intention now, and Kurogane stepped easily into the opening left for him.

"Waste of money," he grumbled by way of excuse. "What time do you have to be at the airport?"

It turned out that Fai had booked the earliest flight out. If it had been done to better his chances of wheedling a ride to the airport from his hard-working host, it wasn't confessed, but it worked out perfectly that way. Despite the long drive, what with pre-flight check-ins and what not, Kurogane would be able to drop his guests off and still be back in time to open his shop up at a fairly decent time. The adults talked over details, counted up some to-do items on their fingers, and then parted ways briefly. Fai drove back up to his cabin alone, leaving the infant with Kurogane.

If Fai had had his way, the others would have accompanied him to the cabin to keep him company while he packed, but Kurogane had a shop to run and said packing would probably be accomplished all the faster if Fai was motivated to finish up and get back to his boyfriend and baby cousin as soon as possible.

"This is our last day together," Fai had pouted at the door, after insisting on having Kurogane pose for another photograph there, with the infant in one arm and his free hand making her wave goodbye. "I don't want to waste even one hour of it."

"You're not going off to war, bird-brain," Kurogane had scoffed in reply. "I'll come and visit you."

"When?"

"Dunno. Not too long."

But Fai had insisted on something more concrete beyond the point of what Kurogane considered reasonable, and hadn't been satisfied until the shopkeeper had promised to visit within the next month or two, no more than three at the most. With no social life or outside commitments to speak of, Kurogane hadn't really had any excuse for putting the visit off except his customers. But if he was going to take a short vacation it hardly mattered whether it was done today or six months from now, and the busiest winter season was already on the wane. He'd promised, and Fai had only departed once both their phones contained new calendar reminders.

The blond's anxiety for securities for their future - and pictures on his phone - persisted throughout the day.

When Kurogane drove up later to pick Fai up, he attempted to give back the spare key to the cabin that was still on his key ring, but Fai insisted on his keeping it "just in case". Just in case _what_ , neither man could say.

"Can I have a key to your place?" Fai asked as he buckled himself into Kurogane's car. His manner was easy and casual and almost made his request seem perfectly reasonable. Almost.

"The hell for? You'd better not stop by without any notice."

"You run a store, Grumpy Bear; people stop by without any notice all day long."

"And none of them have a key."

"And none of them are dating you. Or at least I certainly hope they're not. Are grizzly bears monogamous?"

"I am, but you still don't get a key."

"Yay for exclusivity! Boo for keylessness. What if you're unexpectedly away and I need shelter?"

"You have a cabin!"

"What if it gets buried in an avalanche or burns down in a forest fire?"

"Then my shop'd probably be toast too."

"Okay well what if my cabin's hit by a meteorite?"

"Then you drive your ass back down to Elk Ridge and call your insurance company."

"What if the meteorite also takes out the garage and I have to walk, and just baaarely make it to your shop before collapsing?"

"Then hang out in the supply shed until I get back. Drink some water. No key."

"Meanie. Will you give me a ring instead?"

"Yeah, sure I'll call you sometimes."

"No I mean an engagement ring."

Kurogane said something he probably shouldn't have said in front of the baby.

"What about a promise ring?" Fai persisted.

"The hell is a promise ring?"

"It's a ring you give someone when you promise to buy them an engagement ring someday."

Kurogane frowned as he tried to make sense of this, and then wrinkled his nose up in disgust as he failed to even make it seem halfway sensible.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard of," he stated as he finished maneuvering the car around the drifts piled up around the cabin, and in the back seat, the baby burbled what sounded like agreement. "Why would anyone bother with a promise ring? Why not just get an engagement ring and be done with it?"

"Well, usually the promise ring is a lot simpler than the engagement ring," Fai said, getting into the conversation rather than continuing his humorous, half-serious attempts to further their romance. "It's often a gold Claddagh, which is two hands holding a crowned heart. If a couple's not old enough to get married or financially stable, promise rings are nice placeholders while they wait."

"Okay that makes sense," Kurogane admitted. "But we're not teenagers or on a budget. If you can get real rings what's the point of a promise ring?"

"It's just another milestone in the journey, stuffy old bear," Fai teased.

"A dumb one," Kurogane argued back. "If you're serious enough to promise that you'll get engaged in the future you're basically getting engaged already."

"Well, some people might need to get from dating to engaged in two baby steps instead of one big one. They might not be ready to commit themselves fully."

"Well those people aren't ready to get engaged then."

"That's why they 'get promised' instead."

"The hell? A promise to get engaged shouldn't be any easier to break than a promise to marry!" Kurogane burst out, exasperated at the concept. Perhaps startled by his sudden increase in volume, the baby awped anxiously in the back seat.

"He's not yelling at you sweetie," Fai cooed at her, twisting around in his seat to pet her head soothingly.

"Not yelling at _you_ either," Kurogane said, an unexpected unease making him suddenly aware of his tendency toward testiness in a new way. Keeping calm while ringing up customers who knew better than to try and engage him in small talk wasn't exactly a good measure of his social skills. Just because Fai easily bantered back at his grouchy growls didn't mean that the blond deserved to be snarled at in the first place either. Kurogane reached over with one hand to give Fai an awkward something in between an apologetic pat and a friendly shove, and steadfastly kept his gaze on the road even though he could see, out of the corner of one eye, Fai turning back to him with a bright smile.

"We're dating and I promise to visit but I'm not buying you a ring," Kurogane summarized, and at a short stretch of straight road, fixed Fai's attention onto him with a quick glare. "And don't you buy me one either. I won't think it's funny or cute. Maybe we get married someday but we're miles from that still and I don't like jokes about serious stuff."

Fai blinked at him, wide-eyed and straightening up as much as his seat allowed.

"You really think you could marry me someday?"

"Seriously?" Kurogane asked wearily, unable to shoot another look at Fai as the road twisted and turned between trees so tall they blotted out the sky. "You're the one who's been proposing every damn day, and talking about goldfish and moving and keys, and I told you I'm not interested in meaningless hook-ups. If you haven't actually considered the possibility even once you can get out of my car right now."

"No, I mean... _you_ ," Fai clarified. "I'll marry you right now if we run into an ordained minister on the road without actually running him over, but you're so...well, you. You really think you could fall in love with me? Like really fall? All the way? To the bottom? Like, no parachute, terminal velocity, splat? Face-plant into marriage because you can't live without me anymore?"

Kurogane shook his head as if to clear it of the strange mental images Fai's words were producing. Deciding on impulse to stop the car for the sake of the conversation, he glanced into his rear view mirrors and then steadily pressed down on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a stop in the middle of the road. He threw the parking brake on and then twisted in his seat to face the man whom he had begun dating through a dizzyingly tall pile of interconnected coincidences. Fai was staring at him, eyes wide over a faint smile flickering between nervous and shyly hopeful, confused and curious and maybe a little cautious, hands folded on his lap now in a prim schoolboy manner.

"Seriously, what?" Kurogane asked. "If I thought there wasn't a chance of it I wouldn't have ever agreed to date you. What would be the point if I knew for sure we'd just break up in the end? Wouldn't be worth whatever fun we managed to have in the meantime. I'm dating you _because_ there's that chance, and I'm fine with putting in the work to figure out whether this is going to pan out or not. If it works out, we'll eventually end up married or as good as. If not, well, it won't be for lack of trying."

Fai's face had gone strangely blank, and he stared long enough to make Kurogane wonder that those big blue eyes weren't getting painfully dried out.

And then he lunged across the center console and grabbed Kurogane's face, pulling the startled shopkeeper into a fierce kiss.

Kurogane had flinched automatically at the unexpected affection-attack, but his brain caught up quickly to his instincts and gave them a swift kick. He wasn't sure this was the best way to end the conversation, but he at least knew better than to push the other man away just because he wanted to press his point in some random debate. The kiss was over before he began to feel that he should participate more in it, and then Fai backed off about two centimeters, hands still bracketing Kurogane's jaw and neck.

"I love you even though I don't understand you sometimes," he breathed, eyes twinkling merrily now and a smile slowly stretching out over his face.

Kurogane thought he'd been perfectly logical and sensible, so what he didn't understand about Fai was how Fai couldn't understand him.

"You're weird," he murmured back in what he hoped sounded like resignation but probably came across as just embarrassed, and dropped a quick peck to the side of that smile to soften the statement. He was released as Fai gave a bright laugh and settled back into his own seat. Kurogane shrugged his shoulders to get comfortable again behind the wheel and resumed driving after a quick look around to check for any suicidal deer that might have strolled up while the engine was quietly idling.

"When we get married I'm writing your vows for you," Fai declared. "I don't want you to respond to my impassioned, romantic speeches with something like 'yeah well, you're not the worst, I guess'."

Kurogane snorted and countered with a demand to be allowed to put a word limit on his prospective husband's vows should that day come. The lighthearted theoretical wedding planning continued during the remainder of the drive back to the general store. Fai declared that Yuui could be his 'something old' while he could be his own 'something blue'. Kurogane would be his 'something new' and Sakura was told that she would be dressed in a teensy wedding dress and be his 'something borrowed'. Fai sank briefly into a sorrowful reverie as he pondered a way to honor Birdie without giving away secrets and Kurogane respectfully stayed quiet, though he did reach over to rest a comforting hand on Fai's thigh.

The cloud soon passed and Fai spent a few minutes trying to figure out if Kurogane would look better in a bow tie or an ascot. Either way the shopkeeper was told he had to wear a vest. Fai apparently had a thing for vests. They agreed on a small wedding since Kurogane had no family and Fai had no relatives he considered family beyond his brother. The reception, however, sounded like it would be exhaustingly humongous since Fai's circle of friends seemed to encompass the entire population of Seal Cove.

Kurogane sat quietly through the chatter about flower arrangements and tuned out everything regarding whether the petit fours should be decorated with flowers and dragées or sugar lace and edible glitter. Fai seemed to be having fun with imaginary wedding plans independent of any feedback from his prospective husband, and honestly it was rather amusing and even interesting to look forward and imagine them actually doing this in earnest. On rare occasions when Kurogane had thought about someday, somehow, perhaps finding someone special of his own he'd always skipped forward to the part where they'd been together for years already and were just comfortably getting on with their life. He'd never thought about all the little milestones that Fai seemed so enchanted with; first dates and first kisses, promises and plans, choosing furniture together and bickering over what flavor of cake to have at their wedding. (It sounded like it would be dark chocolate ganache and edible ribbons over chocolate cake with strawberry and whipped cream cheese filling, and Kurogane wondered if it was any sort of bad luck or manners for a groom to refuse to eat his own wedding cake.)

By the time Kurogane pulled back into his garage, Fai had moved on to the honeymoon.

"Hawaii? It's a little tourist trappy but if you haven't traveled much and want to see the ocean, then we might as well start there. We can save the more exotic locations for anniversaries and vacations."

"Why not just stick around near Seal Cove? It's on a coastline and you make it sound nice," Kurogane tossed out while walking 'round the car to get to the infant.

Fai burst out of the front passenger seat, aghast and outraged.

"Oh my God, worst honeymoon ever! We have to go _somewhere_!"

"Why?" Kurogane asked with a shrug. "If you stay home, you don't have to deal with the hassle of flying and crappy hotel sheets and food poisoning at random restaurants. Plus then all the memories are right there."

Fai blinked and went silent for a bit, occasionally huffing and changing his stance as if readying to argue but never actually beginning. Kurogane hoisted the baby up against his shoulder, shut the car door and then scoffed in amusement at the way Fai seemed to be struggling to decide whether to be angry or amused. Finally the blond settled for shaking his head and laughing ruefully.

"I have no idea how you do it, but the more boring and sensible things come out of your mouth, the more romantic and amazing you seem."

Kurogane had nothing to say to that, so he just shrugged and made his way into the shop.

"Come on, don't just stand there," he called back over his shoulder. "I need you to watch the front for me while I box up some stuff for Princess here."

"Okay, _that_ was not romantic," Fai noted wryly, and while he shed his coat, peppered Kurogane with questions about what exactly needed to be packed.


	22. Packing Up, Shipping Away, Making Out

All of Tomoyo's old clothes were already in boxes but they'd need to be reinforced with packing tape. All of the supplies they'd bought recently needed to be either taken or shipped, of course. Most of it hadn't been unwrapped yet but would need to be put into better packaging before it was travel-ready. Kurogane wanted to retain ownership of his mother's rocking chair but was willing to send it off to California for now, where it would actually be put to good use. There was also a handmade quilt covered in painstakingly embroidered forget-me-nots and trimmed in satiny ribbon, too fine for daily use but which would look well draped over the rocking chair or pinned to the wall near the crib.

Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue.

Kurogane repeated an offer he'd made before of letting the brothers use Tomoyo's crib and playpen as well, but Fai insisted on leaving those items at the shop.

"We'll need them when I bring Little Kitty up to visit."

Kurogane was glad of course to know that he'd get to see the baby again without having to fly all the way to California himself, but was a little surprised at Fai so determined on risking his tiny cousin in unnecessary travel, not to mention bringing along a high-maintenance third wheel on future visits. He wouldn't have been surprised - concerned, maybe, but not surprised - if the blond had declared a resolution to raise her in a protective bubble for a while. After a moment's reflection, however, he thought he could recognize in it a desire for an additional foothold in his life. Like Fai's insistence that he keep a key to the cabin on his keychain. His eager agreement that the rocking chair remain Kurogane's legal property regardless of its location. Furniture to be left in Kurogane's shop that had no use unless Fai brought Sakura to visit.

Fai had been forbidden to purchase rings, even as a joke, so he was staking his claim in other little ways.

Kurogane spent a few hours busily sorting everything out, coming down every once in a while with more boxes marked up with black Sharpie. Fai stopped him a couple of times to review and approve photographs texted to him by his brother, showcasing the nursery that was in the process of being been set up at one end of what seemed to be the largest bedroom suite in the world. He also tried to get Kurogane to pose for a photo while holding a box so that he could show Yuui his "brawny bear's bulging biceps" but the shopkeeper refused and escaped back upstairs.

During a brief lunch break, the adults pored over the list of items being boxed and separated them into "take" and "ship" piles. Kurogane mentioned that he'd packed all of the clothes but planned on keeping back a couple of sets of crib sheets and blankets for the sake of future visits, earning a soft, pleased smile that he impulsively kissed off.

The rocking chair fit nicely into an old refrigerator box, but Kurogane would have to go into town and buy a staggering amount of bubble wrap and styrofoam peanuts to secure it, even after padding the box a bit with towels and a couple of plastic bags stuffed full of clothing and bedding. After surveying the number of parcels and the size of the chair box, Fai shook his head and decisively declared that he was paying for all shipping materials and costs. He proved stubborn on this point and they ended up having dinner in Elk Ridge after loading as many boxes as they could into the Audi.

They dropped off all the packages at the post office, replaced most of the redeemed space in the back of the car with bubble wrap and peanuts, and then indulged in a meal that they hadn't had to cook themselves. The infant behaved herself beautifully, charming every staff member at the restaurant with her quiet coos and toothless smiles. At first Kurogane had her baby seat turned toward him in the u-shaped booth they were seated in, but after tipping her back for the third time so that a stranger could go into ecstasies over how chubby and adorable she was, he ended up turning the seat around so that she faced out. She proved perfectly content to gum at her fingers and bask in the adoration of everyone who had a direct line of sight to her, and not for the first time, Kurogane was thankful that she was possessed of such a good nature.

Fai sat on his other side, far enough away that they weren't smacking elbows but close enough that their knees pressed together companionably. He brought out his phone for another picture which Kurogane sat quietly through, just glad that Fai didn't seem to have a mania for taking pictures of every single meal he sat down to. The shopkeeper had water and salmon, Fai ordered a soda and chicken, and they lingered a while over some crappy burnt coffee.

"You okay?" Kurogane asked, after a mostly silent meal. The restaurant had provided constant background noise and there'd been some random comments about the food and other bland topics, but for the most part, Fai had been quiet. He looked up now, surprised at first and then quickly smiling.

"Aw, is Kuro-grizzly worried about me?"

"Yeah."

The look of surprise flashed back and then Fai ducked his head down and nestled in close.

"I'm fine," he said after a moment, voice a little muffled. "I'll be fine. I've got you and Yuui."

Kurogane nodded but mulled over the reply for a moment. Present tense had been change - corrected? - to future, and it had sounded as if he and the brother had been the supporting arguments.

"You've never been alone?" he asked after a bit, when Fai remained curled against his shoulder. The head of golden hair turned up, then tucked back down again.

"I've always been alone, but I've always had Yuui."

It wasn't very enlightening. In fact it only confused Kurogane more. He ended up parsing it out as confirmation that the brothers had been neglected as a pair. It was bad enough, but he supposed it was marginally better than one being favored and the other even more utterly abandoned.

The mention of always having had his brother around solidified his theory that Fai was the younger brother. If Kurogane was remembering the story correctly, Fai had been the one to tumble into trouble and Yuui had been the one to trudge through the snow to get help all those years ago. The brother seemed steadier, more sensible, too, and Fai had assigned Yuui the role of his 'something old' earlier that day. He tried to imagine what this brother might look like but didn't come up with much more than a hazy portrait of a middle-aged blond man, sedate and sober and smiling politely whenever he wasn't fondly rolling his eyes over the antics of his younger sibling.

Kurogane wondered if being thrust unexpectedly into the role of guardian for an infant might wear down some of Fai's odd edges and impulsiveness and was surprised to find himself uncertain of whether that would be a good thing or not.

"Well you've got a kid now, so get ready to never be alone again, ever, for at least the next decade," Kurogane said dryly. "My father told me that once I started crawling, they never got a moment's peace except for when I was sleeping."

Fai perked up at this, and their coffees were cold by the time Kurogane had finished telling the other man stories of how he'd been a prodigious climber even before he'd been able to stand steadily. He'd been stronger than he'd been controlled, and his father had often told him of the times he'd given his mother a heart attack by being half-way up a cabinet or series of shelves when she'd fully expected him to be safely cocooned in a blanket and napping peacefully, or at the most, have army-crawled into a different corner of his crib.

And it hadn't just been the climbing; Kurogane had apparently been constantly playing seek - not hide-and-seek - with his parents. After coming to terms with the fact that they would have had to build a cage to successfully confine their infant son, his mother and father had resigned themselves to constantly hearing the fat slap of damp palms across wood planks heralding the end of whatever couple-time they'd attempted to sneak, and of dimpled hands appearing underneath closed bathroom doors. The new parents had quickly picked up the habit of opening doors excessively slowly just in case a tiny paw was just about to worm its way under it.

Fai peeled away from him to drape himself halfway over the table and beg the occupant of the car seat not to emulate her buncle.

"The hell is a bunkle?"

"Bear uncle. Buncle," Fai clarified.

"No," Kurogane said firmly, not even bothering to address the fact that the little girl was Fai's cousin once removed and legal ward, not his. The blond would probably argue that as his potential future husband, this already qualified Kurogane as a bear-in-law or something like that. He cut off further argument by declaring it time to leave, and they made their way out into the dimly lit parking lot, the car seat snugly secured against the chill with a thick baby blanket.

The drive back was uneventful and once again Fai fell silent, but it felt comfortable this time. He wasn't huddled miserably against the door, and during the moments when Kurogane was able to glance over, he sustained eye contact long enough for a brief but warm smile.

He perked up a bit more when they arrived back at the shop, amiably nudging Kurogane aside so that he could take care of all the baby's needs himself. She'd nodded off during the drive home but had woken up hungry as soon as they'd hauled her out of the car seat, and he fell back into baby boot camp mode. Kurogane saw nothing but sense in this all things considered, and busied himself in unpacking the car. He hustled styrofoam peanuts and rolls of bubble wrap from the car to the storage room where he'd begun packing up his mother's rocking chair, involuntarily pausing a time or two to drink in the sight of Fai dancing around with the baby, talking nonsense to her and getting a variety of happy noises in return.

Packing up the chair took some time, since it was a more complicated process than simply cramming packing material into open spaces. Kurogane wrapped the chair carefully, weaving bubble wrap through and around the delicate woodwork and then wrapping more layers about it all. He ended up dumping all of the towels and clothes out of the box, layering some peanuts into the bottom, and then carefully packing the chair in with the fabric items as wadding for support. The rest of the foam peanuts were poured in over the resulting mound, filling in the nooks and crannies nicely.

After applying a ton of packing tape and a shipping label, Kurogane stood up with a long stretch and sigh, giving the large box an impulsive pat. There was a faint pang at the thought of letting the chair go, but instead of an accompanying regret, mostly he felt the same sort of satisfaction that he got from cleaning the shop or repairing something around the house. A necessary job now done, and done well.

He heard a creak behind him and turned to find Fai leaning against the wall, arms crossed loosely and the infant nowhere in sight.

"Last night together and the baby's gone to sleep," the blond noted, smile turned sly. "Want to make some memories?"

Kurogane rolled his eyes and Fai just laughed, but the teasing grin turned into wide-eyed surprise as he very deliberately stalked over and did not stop walking until there was hardly a centimeter between them. And even then Kurogane's forward momentum didn't exactly stop. He leaned in, hands curling behind Fai's jaw, fingernails scraping soft over smooth skin and the short hairs at Fai's nape. The blond's upturned face was still showing surprise, but now also delight and interest and something else Kurogane didn't bother studying.

Their lips met, too slow to be a crash, too eager to be a nuzzle. He curled his fingers into flyaway gold locks and felt slender fingers crumple into the sides of his shirt. They stayed there through little nips and lingering caresses, then began creeping back and upwards, into slow drags across Kurogane's back like a cross between a massage and a scratch. It felt good, and he gave a short, contented hum. It was a nothing sort of noise and yet it seemed to give Fai a thrill; he could feel a shiver run up that slender frame he was pressing against the wall. The next kiss he got came on the tail end of a faint gasp, warm and wet against his lips, and just a little bit too promising.

Instead of acceding to the tug of hands against his back asking him even closer, Kurogane broke the kiss, untangling his hands and setting palms against the wall. Fai opened his eyes a second after he did and blinked up at him hazily for a moment before laughing faintly.

"Was that a yes?" Fai asked, a little bit hopeful but much more doubting.

"No. 'Least not the way you meant it," Kurogane replied easily, netting himself another laugh and now a protesting punch in the side that he barely felt.

"Didn't think so," Fai admitted. "So...what, that was my consolation kiss?"

"Something like that. Come on, let's go to bed."

Fai's eyebrows shot up at this, and he gave Kurogane the most picture perfect "oh really?" look ever.

"Clothed," Kurogane said pointedly, lightly cuffing the blond upside the head before he dropped his arms away and turned toward the steps. "We've got to get up early tomorrow, remember?" As if needing to get a full quota of sleep was the only reason he wasn't stripping the other man's sweater off.

"Boo," Fai protested, the sly smirk falling quickly off his face. It was replaced by a thoughtful pout. "Is there still time for fully clothed making out?"

Kurogane made a show of checking his watch as he headed upstairs, bright laughter following him up.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Harlequin Romance" challenge at the KuroFai community on Dreamwidth, where an author takes an actual Harlequin romance story summary as inspiration for a KuroFai fanfic. Modified from original Harlequin Romance summary:  
>  _Discovering an abandoned baby in the backseat of a taxi was not on hotelier Fai Fluorite's agenda. Luckily, a stunning stranger comes to his aid—and piques his interest. But before Child Services can arrive, a snowstorm strands the trio in Fai's luxurious Colorado cabin._
> 
>  
> 
> _Youou Kurogane wants to resist Fai's advances, but Fai's care and concern for him and the baby soon have him melting. As the snow falls and the heat sizzles, it's not long before Kurogane's sleeping in Fai's bed. And he finds himself wondering if their temporary arrangement could have permanent effects..._


End file.
